Phalanx
by necaberint
Summary: Gears are tough, but what about when they're not tough enough? Centered around Original Characters. Light romance. Story takes place, starting a few days before GOW 2 begins, and continues beyond the game.
1. Lamertza Facility

Phalanx: a Gears Of War fanfiction

Phalanx 1:

Summary: Gears are tough, but when about when they're not tough enough?

Setting: The story is set four days before the start of Gears Of War 2. I came up with the idea while playing horde after starting the campaign.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gears Of War, and I don't have anything worth taking, so don't sue me! I own the Original Character, Gordon, and the facility. Other than that, I'm just renting.

The locust began the assault on the Lemertza Arms Production facility four hours ago. Sergeant Marcus Fenix, along with Dominic Santiago, and two unnamed guards were putting up quite a fight.

"Scratch one grub!" Roared Marcus as he sank a drone to its knees and curb stomped him.

"I'm glad that's over," sighed Dom as he put down his gnasher. "Damn grubs, they just won't stop coming."

One o f the two guards, wearing the older style blue armor said, "Ditto."

"Damn straight," said the other. This guard was wearing the newer style green armor. Both of the guards wore helmets. Both of them were obviously relatively new to the war. They had taken a short while to get their bearing when the locust attacked at the crack of dawn, and were awestruck when Marcus and Dom appeared to hold down the facility.

"Take five everyone," Said Marcus. "Get a drink, tend to your wounds, get some ammo. We can't be caught with our pants down." Needless to say, no one grumbled about that.

"Hey Marcus." He looked behind him and saw his friend, Dom standing there.

"What, Dom?"

"Do you think that's the last of them?" He sounded worried.

The reply came: "Oh, I don't know. I hope so."

"Is it just me, or did that attack seem a little, half baked?" asked Dom.

"Yeah, kinda. The locust usually attack with more than just drones. Listen, Dom, you know as well as I that the locust can come up at anytime, and from anywhere. We just gotta fight 'em when they do. Keep in cover, never volunteer for anything, and you'll come out alright." finished Marcus.

"Thanks, man." said Dom.

"Hey, no problem."

Everyone did as Marcus suggested, not that they had any reason to complain. Well, Baird probably could, but then again, Baird could bitch about anything. They had not received orders to leave Lemertza, and just as Marcus was to wonder what would be for dinner that night, an earthquake shook him and everyone else from their reveries.

"Take cover!" he shouted as the first bullets began to fly. Marcus dove behind a shelf. Dom hid himself behind a column, while the guards hastily ducked behind some inactive machinery.

The volume of incoming fire was intense. The locust were really giving it all they had, and they had a reason to: The Lemertza Arms Production Facility produced all the weapons and bullets needed by the COG. Lancers, Gnashers, Longshots, Snubs. You named it, they made it. Destroying the facility would cripple humanity and everyone knew that failure was not an option. "Grinders!" yelled Dom as he spotted a group of machine gun toting boomers. A bullet stray bullet grazed the right temple of the blue-armored guard. He was dazed, but forced himself back up. Then, Marcus saw a sight that made everyone's blood run cold: flamers.

In such close confines, they wouldn't stand a chance against the hot flamethrowers, and a stray bullet would set the tanks to explode, killing everyone and wrecking the factory. Marcus got on the radio and howled: "Control, this is Delta. We are defending the Lemertza Arms Production Facility, and are under heavy locust attack! The enemy is too numerous, requesting reinforcements! Be advised: The enemy is using flamethrowers!"

The lead continued flying in both directions for what seemed like an eternity, until Anya said the most welcome sentence that Marcus had ever heard: "Roger, Delta, reinforcements on route." Marcus felt a surge of elation as he turned off the radio and began to fire his lancer into the oncoming horde with reckless abandon.

"Take that, you bastards" yelled the blue guard as he dispatched a grenadier with his Snub Pistol. His vanquished foe fell in a bloody heap and dropped his shotgun. The weapon went off and the blast went into an advancing boomer, decapitating the monstrosity.

The other guard poked his longshot around the corner and took aim. The green-clad sentinel squeezed the trigger. The rifle gave a resounding crack as the lead projectile exited the barrel and burrowed itself into the skull of a drone. "Boom, headshot!" clamored the victorious defender. Things were going well, Marcus was beginning to consider canceling the reinforcements when a new creature appeared in his sights.

This new beast was short and squat. It walked n two legs, yet was distinctly bestial. It wore a helmet on its head with a single shining light in the middle. It had two scythe-like clams and on its back, was mounted a drone. There wasn't just one of these gruesome-twosomes, there was a pack of them.

"What the hell is that?" remarked the green-clad guard. He hesitated with opening fire and then, a bullet from one of the riders landed in his left leg in his thigh. He screamed in pain as the beast advanced and fired his pistol desperately as the charging enemy while hurriedly dragging himself away. His counterpart felled the animal with his sniper rifle.

"Come on, get up" he exclaimed, while Marcus and Dom provided suppressing fire against the locust. The wounded man tried to rise. He got his right leg up, then moved his left. A scream of true agony escaped him and he collapsed clutching his limb.

"I can't do it!" he sobbed.

"I can't leave you here." Countered the other and grabbed his free hand. The blue-clad guard dragged him away from the fighting behind a shelf. "Stay here," he said and returned to the battle.

"What the?" cursed Marcus. His lancer jammed halfway through a magazine. Without thinking we warned: "Kid, watch out!"

One of the beasts had lost its rider and charged him. The gunman dived out of the way, but he was too late. As he evaded its strike, the scythe-like limb came down, severing his right arm off.

"No," shouted Marcus and Dom in unison. Dom charged right into the line of fire, brandishing his shotgun.

"Get off you freak!" He yelled and discharged a full tube into its head. The animal's skull exploded all over the two warriors." Dom grabbed the downed guard and his limb over his back in a fireman's carry and hustled back to where the first guard had been lain just seconds earlier. Dom deposited his cargo and ran back to Marcus. "We're screwed," he stated disheartenedly.

"Shut up and fight!" countered Marcus. Dom rose and leveled his shotgun, right into the face of an oncoming mount. He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

"Damnit!" he swore. Suddenly, a shot rang out and the beast fell limp. Dom checked to his right at Marcus. The sergeant was reloading. Then where did that bullet came from? Who was their savior?

Immediately, a follow up shot flew into the body of a drone. Dom was the tracer and looked back behind him. Another soldier stood there. He was wearing armor unlike anything he had ever seen. His helmet looked like something out of a classical civilizations museum exhibit. It was pot shaped and had an open faced design except for the nasal guard. The rest of the combatant's clothing was obscured behind a huge shield. It was three feet wide and circular. Both the helmet and shield appeared to made of bronze.

The figure was crouched behind the shield and holding a Boltok Revolver in his left hand. With a devilish grin, the figure reloaded the revolver perfectly and threw up a screen of lead. A second shot caught the same drone in the heart and killed him. The man was not yet finished. He emptied four shots into the crania of four other enemies. Their heads exploded as the high energy bullets made their mark up the targets. The man reloaded as a grinder stepped into view. Before any could do anything, the giant began shooting at the shielded man.

Rounds from the Mulcher Heavy Machine Gun tore into the shield, yet it held. Its holder grunted under the strain of holding it as the barrage of lethal anti-armor projectiles thudded against his aegis. The grinder ceased firing as the weapon over heated and began to cool down. By now, the pistoleer had finished reloading and emptied three bullets into his foe's face. The last one blew the head to smithereens. For the next hour, the three of them repelled the locust onslaught, fighting like berserkers. They held through waves of drones, bolters, boomers, flamers, grinders, bloodmounts, and grenadiers. At last the enemy forces stopped coming.

The pistoleer immediately said: "Get those two to a hospital!" He was referring to the guards who had been dismembered by the horde. Marcus and Dom quickly ran over to the back where the two wounded men were lying. The green-clad one was hoisted up by Marcus and Dom took the blue-clad one and his arm. They ran out of the room at full speed.

The pistoleer was not yet done. He removed his helmet and radioed: "Control, this is Gordon, the attack on Lemertza is over. The area is secure. All wounded are being evacuated. No soldiers KIA. The guards were both WIA. I am fine, just tired.

"You did it," breathed Anya, her voice heavy with relief. "Hold your position, you are to remain until more guard arrive."

"Understood, Gordon out." He switched off his radio. Gordon began scrounging around looking for ammunition. His shield was slightly scarred from the battering it had received, but not significantly. He waited there for hours, until a watch of another two guards escorting a third man came. This man was Colonel Victor Hoffman. He was in his fifties, and tougher than course sandpaper. Gordon saluted, his revolver was in its holster.

"At ease." ordered the Colonel. "Are you Specialist Gordon?" he inquired.

"Yes sir."

"Remove your helmet."

Gordon complied. His features were remarkably similar to the old Lieutenant Kim's with one big difference: Gordon's eyes were more squinted in appearance. He asked: "Is there something you wish to say to me, sir?"

"Cut your jabber, I'll get to it." replied Hoffman. He began: "First off, I would like to commend you for your admirable actions here today. You prevented a crippling loss to the COG and saved the lives of our fellow soldiers. I ran into Sergeant Fenix as he and another gear from the same squad were carring a pair of injured guards. I promptly stopped them and found out what was going on. I then took a pair of sentries and made my way down here."

He continued: "Secondly, I am offering you an opportunity to transfer to Delta Squad. The other gear with Fenix seemed quite eager to see you in the squad. Thirdly, I inform you that I have put you in for commendations. In three days time, you will be receiving the Steel Gear medal for your actions here today. Next, there is the matter of the creation of a phalanx unit. Because of you, the plan is sure to succeed. Finally, I relieve you of your post. You may now go."

"Thank you sir." Gordon said earnestly. And sir, "I would like to accept your offer of a transfer to Delta Squad."

"Very well then," came the response."Dismissed!" Hoffman turned and walked away with Gordon behind him.


	2. First Day

Phalanx 2:

Summary: Gordon's first day in Delta Squad.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gears Of War, and I don't have anything worth taking, so don't sue me! I own the Original Characters, Gordon and Sergeant Tucker. Other than that, I'm just renting.

Gordon returned to his barracks for supper late. He was mulling over the day's events. Not that they troubled him, he just hadn't expected so much to happen so quickly. When he received the call to assist in the defense of the facility, he was just expecting a couple of overwhelmed cops and up to dozen drones tops; not the army that he was greeted with.

Dinner that night was roast beef and peas. Not bad considering their current predicament. Gordon sat alone as he usually did. The other men in Pi Squad, his unit were special operations and other elites, and had egos to match. They didn't want to associate with such oddballs as him. While he ate, he thought about what the future would hold for him. He didn't have the foggiest clue about what could happen to him.

The next day, he awoke at the crack of dawn in the usually army fashion. After getting dressed, he went outside for roll call and stood in his place. Sergeant Tucker went down the line calling out names, with each man replying "Present, Sir!" as his name was called.

When Sergeant Tucker reached him, he demanded: "What in hell are you doing here?"

"Reporting for roll call, sir!" he answered.

"Moron, you're not in my unit anymore! Get over to Delta on the double! You have forty-five seconds to gather your crap and clear out! Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Move it!" glaring harder than usual, Sergeant Tucker continued taking roll call.

Gordon exited the line as gracefully as possible, fully aware of how idiotic he looked. He rushed back into the barracks and collected his only possessions: his helmet, his shield, his boltok, and a sheathed wazakashi. He sprinted along the lane of barracks at full speed and soon arrived outside of Delta's. Marcus was taking roll call.

Marcus had just finished with his squad when Gordon came running in. Gordon stood at attention, saluted, and said: "Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim, reporting for duty sir."

"At ease," growled Marcus. "Welcome to Delta. We're about to go to breakfast. You can go once you've claimed a cot and stowed your property under it. Then, you can get food."

"Understood, sir." Replied Gordon.

"And one more thing," finished Marcus. "Just call me Marcus; we're not polite here."

"Affirmative, Marcus." having said that, Gordon went into the barracks. It was much like his old one, only with fewer occupants. While his old one had housed ten occupants, this one, including him, now only contained four. He put his belongs down underneath a cot along the right wall near the back of the structure. He then took a brief moment to peek at what the others had on their bunks.

Marcus had his lancer lain on the ground underneath his bed. Dom had a photo of a woman taped to the wall next to his with the phrase: "Dominic and Maria Santiago." There was a third person that Gordon did not recognize. There was a copy of a book on Zen Buddhism under his bed. Gordon then exited the barracks and went to breakfast.

The food this morning was shredded wheat and scrambled eggs. He took a bowlful of the cereal and a nice scoopful of egg before going off to find a seat. Gordon usually ate in silence, even in his own squad. He was surprised when he saw a hand waving at him from across the hall. Not quite knowing what to expect, he approached the hand.

The man waving at him was Dom. "Sit down, man he said." He did, and saw that there were others at the same table who obviously knew each other. They were a huge black man with bulging muscles, a heavily tattooed man with a rather fat face, and a blond man with goggles.

Just as Gordon was about to eat, the black man called: "Hey man, name's Cole. What's 'sup?"

"Not much, Cole. I just got transferred to Delta this morning. I had a hell of fight yesterday with a bunch of locust and got requested to join this squad."

"Big whup." said the blond guy. "Hey Marcus, who's the rookie?"

"Shut up Baird," retorted Marcus.

"So, new guy, tell us, how'd you get into Delta?" asked Baird obnoxiously.

Not rising to the bait, Gordon began to tell them the story of what had happened the previous day. "I was finishing up a training exercise at the pistol range when Anya called. She sounded anxious and told me to go to the Lamertza Arms Production Facility. I grabbed my shield and helmet and ran off at top speed. I was expecting a couple of cops and up to a dozen drones tops. When I got there, I saw two guards in gear armor lying behind shelves with severe wounds. They both told me to go on ahead. That there was some really bad fight going on. I continued forwards, then saw some beast about to devour Marcus. I fired my gun and killed it. The rest is history. Marcus, Dom, and I fought of the locust and they took the wounded gears to the hospital once the fighting ended. I stayed there awaiting orders for a long time until Colonel Hoffman came. He congratulated me on my perforce and told me that I am to be decorated for my actions. I was also informed that Marcus had requested my transfer into this squad. And that's essentially my story."

"Bravo," said Baird sarcastically.

"C'mon Baird," this guy's cool. Gordon allowed himself a slight grin.

"Well done," said the tattooed man. "You are a great warrior."

"Thank you."

After that, they ate mostly in silence for about another fifteen minutes until the meal ended. They all rose and dumped their trash into the lids on their way out. Baird and Cole went off to join their squad while Gordon, Dom, and Tai followed Marcus. He led them to a clear spot outside in the courtyard and addressed them. "Today, we're training as usual. First, we're going on a four mile run. Then, we'll hit the range. Next, we'll come in for lunch. Later, we'll go to the weight room, and finally, a war game.

They returned to the barracks to get all their gear. Marcus had given them five minutes to prepare. "It's a full armor run," explained Dom. Gordon kept silent. He hated running, and was always the slowest. He grabbed his revolver and put it in his holster. He then donned his helmet and shield before returning to the hill. Marcus was waiting for them, lancer in hand.

"Everyone ready?" he inquired. No one objected. "Go!" he ordered. Immediately, everyone began to run. Gordon was quickly outpaced by everyone, but forced himself to keep up. At one mile, he was out of breath. After two, he was getting pains in his side. After three, he was overcome with heat. Gordon felt as if his armor would melt on him. Finally, after he completed the fourth mile, he stopped. He was overwhelmed by heat and in pain. His arms were totally slack. He had no sensation other than of great weakness and hotness. He forced himself to remain up, nearly throwing up from the strain of his exertions.

Marcus looked everyone over. He himself was sweating, although had somehow managed to fare better than they did. "You did good guys, you too, Gordon." No one spoke. They were all worn out. "Now follow me," instructed Marcus. Then Delta Squad went to the firing range.

Gordon cooled off taking shots from a variety of positions. He had always enjoyed the shooting range. He could concentrate deeply, and in his opinion, he was allowed to let off some steam; imagining the target to be an arouser of his ire. Needless to say, he was a crack shot with his pistol. Tai complemented him on his aim and Marcus noted it. Dom still seemed impressed, but didn't need to say anything. Dom gave Gordon a nod after Gordon managed to empty all six shots from his revolver into the head of his target in quick succession.

Later, they went to lunch and chatted some more with Baird and Cole. Gordon learned that they were assigned to Alpha Squad, but had fought alongside Marcus and Dom in the lightmass bomb operation. Gordon wasn't quite confident enough to speak openly to his table buddies yet, but still had a brief conversation with Tai about the finer points of headshooting.

After lunch, they hit the gymnasium. Of all the training that he did, this was Gordon's favorate. He wasn't a strong guy, but he had pain tolerance and patience in spades. He had a low Bench Press of only 100 pounds, compared to Marcus, who could do 150. Dom could manage 220, and Tai had the heftiest power at 300 pounds. After they toweled themselves off, they set off for the "wingman range."

Marcus told them that they would be fighting in pairs; he and Dom against Gordon and Tai. They each went to their own areas and strategized. Tai was in favor of a more direct approach. He wanted to take them head on. Gordon suggested that they lie in wait for their opponents to come to them and ambush them before they had a chance. There would be three rounds. The winning side of each round would be the team that had the most members still alive. For safety reasons, chalk bullets were used on the course. The rules were simple: the first to three wins. If you are shot, you are out. The last team standing wins each round. If you are shot, you must fall over as if dead. You may not significantly move until the round is over. The beginning and ending of each round is punctuated by a buzzer. Chainsaw bayonets and other melee strikes are not allowed.

After a brief debate, they decided to try Tai's plan first, then to try Gordon's. The better plan of the two would be adopted for further use. Gordon and Tai loaded their guns with the placebo ammo and waited for the buzzer. The buzzer went off and they immediately stalked forwards. They strode along silently and swiftly in the general direction of the other two. Tai was in front when he cried out, "Shoot!" He had run directly into Marcus and Dom, who then proceeded to load enough chalk into him to supply an entire school district for a decade. The two of them were shaken, but Gordon kept his cool. He looked out from around the doorway shot the duo.

"Damn," said Marcus and Dom simultaneously.

The second game, they decided to try Gordon's idea. They set themselves up on top of a staircase. Gordon was looking through a narrowly opened door, and Tai was hidden in the corner. Just to draw attention, Gordon took a loose brick and chucked it down the stairs. The solid thuds quickly drew the attention of the other two. Dom was point, and had his shotgun out. Gordon got him right in the gear emblem which earned him a blasting from Marcus. Tai promptly shot Marcus in the back.

In the final session, they decided to split up and launch a two-pronged attack. The buzzer went off and they separated. Gordon hunted through the structure, wary of any motion. He saw Marcus and Dom go through a doorway and saw Tai looking down upon him from the upstairs landing. They gave each other a quick nod, and then waited. Marcus and Dom soon emerged, and were immediately blasted by Gordon and Tai. The score was set: Delta 1: 0; Delta 2: 3.

At dinner, Gordon wasted no time in recounting how he and Tai had owned Marcus and Dom at the war game. "No shit!" exclaimed Cole enthusiastically. Baird simply grunted. Marcus said that it was luck and he would get him next time. Dom just openly stated that he had been beaten.

They chatted around with Cole and Baird after dinner before heading off to their own Barracks. Marcus gave them a debriefing: "Good work today guys. That's the kind of effort that's gonna beat the locust. Now go to sleep."

They all removed their armor and tucked it under their beds. Gordon got into bed and quickly fell asleep.


	3. Maligned Hero

Phalanx 3: Commendations and amputations

Summary: Consequences from the first chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gears Of War, and I don't have anything worth taking, so don't sue me! I own the Original Characters: Gordon, Sergeant Tucker, Severus, Mathew and Kyle. Other than that, I'm just renting.

Gordon woke again this morning to the sound of the bugle. He got up and out on his armor. The others were doing this and Marcus had already left the barracks, presumably to take roll call. The soldiers went outside, Gordon not knowing exactly what to expect. Delta had been very different from Pi. As it turned out, Marcus did take roll call, but he was much less formal than Tucker.

"Tai?"

"Here."

"Dom?"

"Here."

"Gordon?"

"Here."

"Good. Let's get to-" but Marcus never finished his sentence, for at that moment, a runner came up and began speaking.

"Are you Sergeant Fenix?" he interjected.

"Yes," growled Marcus.

"Colonel Hoffman has arranged a commendations ceremony for the following individuals at twelve hundred hours at headquarters."

"Go on."

"The people specified are: Sergeant Marcus Fenix, Corporal Dominic Santiago, and Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim." having said that, the runner hastily ran off.

Marcus said: "There's been a change in the plan, so we're going to grab some breakfast, review melee techniques, and then, Tai, you're going off to lunch while Dom, Gordon, and I go get decorated. If we're not back after lunch, return to the barracks. If we're still not back, follow the bugle schedule. Let's go, Delta." The four of them then proceeded to go to the mess hall.

As with yesterday, they took up seats near Baird and Cole. Cole nearly made a racket loud enough to be mistaken for a locust attack when he learned that Gordon, Marcus, and Dom were going to be decorated. "Whoo, yeah baby! You got those locust bitches so hard that Hoffman's gonna mark you!" Cole gave Gordon such a hard slap on the back that Gordon went face first into a slice of spam.

"Yeah," added Baird sarcastically. "You're getting a special 'do not approach sign'."

"C'mon Baird, You're just jealous 'cause they don't give out medals for sarcasm." countered Cole enthusiastically. Everyone laughed, and even Baird grinned good-humoredly.

Breakfast came to an end five minutes later. Baird and Cole went off with Alpha while Delta went to the gymnasium. They were just outside the good to the training room when they were interrupted by an unwelcomed visitor.

"Hey, Gordon" called someone behind them. Gordon turned. He immediately recognized the man as Mathew, one of the hotshot special operations guys from Pi Squad.

"What?" replied Gordon.

"Is it true that you're in Delta and that you're being decorated?" asked Mathew.

"Yeah, so?" said Gordon.

"How'd you do it?" inquired Mathew.

"I was summoned to defend the Lamertza Arms Production Facility against a locust attack." answered Gordon.

Mathew added a twinge of sarcasm into his voice. "I mean, how did you stop the locust from attacking?"

Gordon saw where this was going, but decided to expose Mathew for the slime ball he really was. "I shot at them with my revolver while Marcus and Dom fought with lancer and gnasher respectively."

"You're just making that up. How did you really repel the locust? Did you talk to them, or just let them see your face."

Dom made a brief twitch, but Marcus held him back. "Easy, Dom" he breathed. Dom continued to glare at Mathew.

"I seriously just shot them. Eventually, they stopped coming." stated Gordon simply.

"They only stopped coming because one of them must've crawled back and told them that you were there, retard." mocked Mathew.

"What was that?" demanded Dom. Marcus seemed to be looking fondly at his chainsaw.

Gordon thought that he'd better attempt to diffuse the situation before it got messy. "I shot them in their heads. I decapitated many and killed others. I'll give you a demonstration." he added, gripping his boltok.

"No thanks," chortled Mathew. "Besides, it's actually less dangerous to be your target than a bystander."

Dom looked like he wanted to beat Mathew to a pulp. Marcus was restraining him, although he looked like he himself was considering the best way to kill Mathew. Even Tai, normally placid, was obviously angered. "Hold it guys, I'll get rid of this douchebag."

"What was that, fag? Asking your butt-buddies for a reach around tonight?" Mathew laughed sadistically.

"Actually, I was asking them who was going to deliver each one of your limbs back to your family after I'm done with you." replied Gordon with a smirk.

"Tell you what, Mathew." said Gordon simply. "By you still standing there, I assume that you want me to demonstrate how I dealt with the locust on you. I'll give you until four to back out of the demonstration. I'm not at all liable for personal injury sustained during demonstrations."

"As if!" laughed Mathew uproariously.

"One." counted Gordon, removing his boltok from its holster.

"You're joking." chuckled Mathew weakly.

"Two." continued Gordon, pointing the revolver at Mathew's face, aiming right for his nose.

"Come on, stop it." whimpered Mathew.

"Three." warned Gordon, now cocking the weapon.

"Okay, okay, I'll leave, but it's only for the safety of the people behind my retard." Mathew quickly scurried away, looking pale.

"Bastard," growled Dom. Baird's an ass, but that guy's a total shit."

"Right with ya," said Marcus, letting his anger show. "Should've busted his balls."

"More like his hymen." chimed in Gordon. The four of them laughed.

"Good one man," said Dom.

"He spreads bad karma. Keep away from him." added Tai.

"Well anyways, let's get to training. We don't have much time today to screw around." With that, they entered the gymnasium.

The gymnasium was a large, rectangular, relatively low ceilinged room with padded walls and two padded columns. It had one large mirrored wall, and on the other wall, were various weapons. On one wall, there were posters of striking points of drone anatomy. On the other, it gave pointers on chainsaw dueling. Delta entered through the back door, to the left of where the weapons were. At this point, Marcus decided to add an addendum, to his earlier statement: "We're going to have a double length training session here. Pair up and have at it."

Delta promptly split into pairs; Marcus with Tai and Dom with Gordon. Dom held up his fists like a boxer, and Gordon dropped into a fighting stance. "Ready man, I won't hold back." said Dom.

"Go ahead." replied Gordon. They weren't wearing armor, just some training clothing that was light and flexible. Dom's face grew serious and he launched a punch, a left jab right for Gordon. Gordon hopped right and parried with his left forearm, then lunged into Dom and smacked him in the ribs with his right forearm. Dom winced. He hadn't expected Gordon to be so fast, or so ready.

However, Dom wasn't through. He ducked and seized Gordon right arm and pulled. Gordon came tumbling down, and tucked himself into a diagonal roll onto his right arm and dove forwards. Dom by now had gotten back up and dived at him. Without flinching, Gordon slightly sidestepped to the left and grabbed Dom around the middle, then pounced on top of him.

Dom gasped at the force of being leapt on by a one hundred and sixty pound man and held up his hand to shield his face instinctively. Gordon's head smacked against these and halted. Dom suddenly saw that his opponent was a striker, not a grappler, and gave a sudden jerk, rolling him on top of Gordon. He saw on Gordon's chest, then proceeded to wallop Gordon in the face.

Gordon was stunned. One second, he had Dom at his mercy. The next, He was being crushed under his opponent and being pummeled in the face. He swung upwards at Dom, but he just grabbed his hands and head butted him. Desperately, Gordon twisted his limbs out of Dom's grasp and slammed him the guts. The effect was instantaneous. Dom lost control and fell off. Gordon instantly flipped Dom over onto his front with his foot, and then brought his foot down on the back of his head. He hesitated at the last moment, and rested his foot on his fallen opponent's skull and called out: "dead."

Gordon dismounted Dom and offered him a hand, which he accepted gladly. "Good, good fight," gasped Dom, barely able to stand. Marcus and Tai were still sparring with each other. Both of them were obviously highly skilled combatants. Tai was using a very formal style that seemed to be focused on smooth and circular motion. Marcus, in contrast, was fighting like a barbarian. There was nothing structured or ordered about his movements. It was just a series of very opportunistic and hard blows, going after even the smallest opening. Neither of them seemed to be trying to take the other down. Gordon couldn't tell if it was because they were both highly skilled grapplers, if such a move would be punished by immediate defeat, or if they were just attempting to batter each other into submission.

Gordon looked at the clock. It was now 1000 hours. Dom had recovered from his pounding, and was looking on the fight with interest. "Normally," he said "Marcus goes for the fast and dirty victory. He usually fights Baird or some other guy. I've rarely seen him fight like this. He only usually does this when fighting Cole. I've never seen him scrap with Tai."

"I guess he's doing this because he's aware of how much stronger Tai is than him. If he went in headfirst, he'd be out cold before he hit the floor." said Gordon.

"How did you learn to fight like that?" asked Dom.

"I learned to fight like this," said Gordon. "When I was in Pi Squad. I was overpowered by everyone in the unit, and as a result, I got mashed to a pulp in sparring. I had to figure out how to turn the brawn of my enemies from my weakness into my boon. I came up with the idea of using force redirection and critical hits after a particularly brutal fight. I was using my blocks on the guy, but, the punches came in to forcefully for me to be able to block them. I thought about it a lot, and was in the shower when the idea struck me. I was playing around with the water. I noticed that no matter how it hit me, it always flowed around whatever obstacle in its path. The slightest weakness in a barrier and it would flow through it. I applied the idea to fighting, and saw that every time they struck, there was some opening that was created. Now, I just had to exploit it. Does that answer your question?"

"It does, but go on.'

"Very well," continued Gordon. "The next day, I decided to try it on Sergeant Tucker. He used the type of style proscribed in boot camp. He threw a big punch at my face, but I ducked down. I then lunged into him at full force with my head. I know it's laughable, but I stunned him. The force of the impact and the fact that he had missed me caught him off balance, and he easily crumpled to the floor. But, I wans't finished yet. I rammed my fists into his stomach and then got up and mock curb stomped him like I did you. I proclaimed victory. He was immensely surprised, and demanded that I fight Mathew."

"Hold on, you mean the same jackass that was taunting you earlier?"

"Yes, the same prick. Anyways, I did the same thing to him. Although everyone made fun of me for how I attacked Sergeant Tucker. This time, I gave no ground as Mathew ran at me. He was cocking back his arm for a grand slam and I rolled right into him sideways. The forced sent him flying as he tripped over me, but he managed to catch himself on the wall before I could make use of the opening. Without really thinking, I began to walk towards him in my fighting stance. He aimed a vicious kick right at my stomach. I tensed up my muscles and took the hit. It hurt much less than I thought it would, but the blow knocked me over. He stood over me and began kicking me in the sides. I reacted and sent up my leg. It connected and got him right on the kneecap. He stumbled away from me with a look of complete rage on his face. I jumped to me feet, and he came at me. I moved into his attack and seized him around the middle, somewhat like I did to you and rolled him to the floor. Before he really knew what was happening, I just finished him by whacking him on the chin, then held a blow to his throat. I declared him defeated and got off. He, however, wasn't finished yet, and slugged me in the back of my heady. I turned and kicked him in the balls. I didn't seriously hurt him, but made him stop. That's pretty much how I learned to fight."

"Damn, tough."

'Yeah, I still wish that I had really castrated Mathew." Gordon glanced at the space where Marcus and Tai were sparing earlier. He saw both of them looking ragged and tired. Marcus was drained, but Tai looked ready to drop. Marcus then moved in on Tai. The man was sloppy and sent up a halfhearted block to stave him off, but it failed. Marcus then finished him off by shoving him against the wall and grabbing his head as if to break his neck. "Dead," proclaimed Marcus weakly. The two men shook hands, congratulating the other on their effort.

"Clean yourselves up, guys," growled Marcus. "Time's almost up." They all gratefully showered then revested themselves into their armor. The clock by now read 1100. They returned to their barracks, where Marcus, Dom, and Gordon attempted to make themselves presentable. After all, it wasn't everyday that you were decorated for valor.

At 1120, the three of them due medals began to walk towards control. The ceremony would be in the auditorium. Nobody said much, there was nothing that needed to be said. They reached the auditorium, and were surprised to see three people standing there. They were: Colonel Hoffman, The blue-clad guard from Lamertza, and the green-clad guard from Lamertza. The green-clad one seemed to be standing at an odd angle, yet had somehow recovered miraculously from his wounds. The blue-clad one was similar, although his arm hung weirdly. They were both wearing their armor.

"Now that you're here," began Hoffman. "We can begin the ceremony. Everyone stood in a line at attention. Then Hoffman started, proceeding from left right right.

Hoffman recited: "Firstly, for courage under fire, and indomitable resistance, even in the face of impossible odds, I award this Landown Star to Sergeant Marcus Fenix." He pinned the medal onto Marcus's chest, with much less animosity than Marcus expected, given his hatred towards him.

Moving down the line, Hoffman continued: "Next, for bravery in spite of grievous wounds, and stalwart resistance without thought of personal safety, I award this Gold Banner to Private Severus Holland." Hoffman pinned the medal to his chest, beaming proudly at the green-clad guard.

Shifting right, Hoffman spoke: "For selfless courage on the battlefield, and for the rescue of a wounded comrade from the jaws of the enemy, I present this Iron Aegis to Corporal Dominic Santiago." Hoffman smiled warmly as he pinned the medal to Dom's chest.

Now facing the next man, Hoffman announced: "For unmatched heroism in battle, and extreme self sacrifice, I present this Embry Sprocket to Private First Class Kyle Verstein." Hoffman smiled while pinning the award of the blue-clad guard.

Now, Hoffman was looking directly at the last recipient. He inhaled, then said: "And finally, to Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim, I award the Steel Gear award for unsurpassed valor and courage in battle. May you wear this proudly, soldier." Wearing a smile bigger than Cole's biceps, he pinned the medal onto the man. Gordon didn't speak, there was no need to.


	4. Iota Squad

Phalanx 4: Iota Squad

Summary: The first phalanx.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gears Of War, and I don't have anything worth taking, so don't sue me! I own the Original Characters: Gordon, Amanda, Noel, Irene, and Priscilla. Other than that, I'm just renting.

The trio of them had returned to base after visiting with Kyle and Severus. It turned out that each of them had been amputated and given a prosthetic limb. Severus was sporting a false leg. While it was good, he hadn't totally gotten used to it yet, and it left him out of the war He was now a guard forever. The same went to Kyle, who had his arm removed. Both of them were glad to be alive, and gave Gordon no shortage of thanks. They got a drink at a bar, and chatted about subjects. About girlfriends, the stupidity of command, and of course everyone's favorite topic: how they all got into the army.

Marcus and Dom told them flatly that they were both in the military academy. For the other three, it wasn't so simple. Severus had joined because his parents had forced him to. Kyle had taken lifeboat assistance. Gordon joined the military after his older brother, Lieutenant Minh Young Kim. Both of them had wanted to fight the locust, but that's where the similarities ended. Where Minh was by-the-book and orderly, Gordon was disorganized and innovative. Minh's mindset was: the right was or no way. Gordon's mindset was: the most efficient way or the most manageable way.

When Gordon had been told that Minh had been killed in action, he wasn't that shaken emotionally. He had been expecting him to die, and was not that close with his brother. He knew that his elder sibling was a fine soldier and a skilled officer. He thought of Minh's death as more of a bad strategic loss for the COG, who needed all the top notch officers they could get. This prompted Gordon to try a joke.

Lowering his wine, he asked: "What do you call the first person in an officer academy?"

"Lieutenant," responded everyone.

"And what do you call the bottom of the class?"

"Lieutenant."

"Exactly." No one laughed, although they seemed to get the point. Minh had been the top of his class, and the army needed officers with his skills. The fact that the COG army had survived for so long was a miracle by itself, but that was due to the extreme measures implemented by command. While there were certainly gifted leaders in the gears, the COG army had no shortage of fools. And by this time, every man counted. Foreseeing ground force extinction, command had recently begun to let limited numbers of women into the army. Most of these amazons were either infertile, or had already borne their sons. No one was complaining about having extra soldiers available, especially male gears.

They said their goodbyes and Severus and Kyle returned to get more PT for their prosthetic limbs, while Gordon, Dom, and Marcus went back to base. They hadn't been drinking much, as they still had to perform. They arrived back in time for dinner. Dom was telling Cole about the ceremony, and of course Baird came up with another snide remark about Gordon. Gordon just laughed it off. After all, Baird wasn't like Mathew.

And speak of the devil, Mathew showed up. This time, he had brought along a girl with his. She had blonde hair, and had, by all accounts, a gorgeous figure. He said cockily: "Look who got put in our squad, Gordon. This awesome babe here is Amanda." Amanda gave a small giggle and a blush. "I guess that wanted to make it up to us after being stuck with someone like you. After all, we deserve it because we're awesome, unlike you. Maybe once you're gone, Delta will get a girl too. When was the last time you got a girl? That's right: never!" Mathew laughed while putting his arm around Amanda. It wasn't long before Gordon came up with a witty comeback.

"Mathew, "stated Gordon calmly. "that's my old girl. I decided to have her given to Pi Squad because I felt like you snobby chumps deserved a reward for taking my thrashings so well." Apparently the memories of how Gordon had busted their balls in the sparing ring were painful to Mathew and he decided to make a retreat.

"What an asshole," said Baird.

Cole asked, "So Gordon, did you really kick his ass in a fight."

"Yes. I figured out that the best way to deal with someone stronger that you is to let them make themselves vulnerable."

"Say what?"

Realized that he had not been plain, Gordon clarified: "Every time you attack, you shift stances. Throwing a punch means that one of your hands is no longer guarding you, so a fast opponent can exploit the gap in your guard and punch you back. Think of it like attacking a convoy from the side." Cole apparently understood this and kept eating. Dinner concluded and they went back to the barracks. They were debriefed by Marcus, and were about to shut off their lights when a runner showed up. He looked breathless.

Without stopping to make an apology for barging in, he quickly said: "Lane Corporal Kim, report to command. Take your gear and come wearing your armor." Then, the messenger sprinted off into the incandescently illuminated night.

Gordon grumbled, but complied anyways. Wordlessly, he put back on his armor, and grabbed his possessions. He then set off for command at a brisk pace. Even at the rate he was going, it took him a half hour to reach his destination. Once inside, he saw Chairman Prescot, Colonel Hoffman, and three women. He did not recognize any of them, and assumed that he had been summoned due to some particularly bad news. Gordon was pessimistic. He had learned that the best rarely happened, and being prepared for a worst case scenario typically yielded better results than expecting favorable events. He gave the chairman and the colonel a salute each.

"Form up," yelled Hoffman. This was apparently going to be serious. Quickly, he and the three women lined up at attention in no particular order. Hoffman fell back behind Prescot, and then began something which Gordon had never expected.

"Gears," he addressed. "This long war had weakened the defenses of Jacinto. We are more vulnerable now than ever before to locust incursions, as was proved at Lamertza. The enemy is now capable of striking right into the heart of the COG. We are close to losing the war. You four are the safeguards against this catastrophe. You shall fight in the phalanx as the warders or humanity. Your job is to keep Jacinto secure from the locust. I christen you Iota Squad. Your officer is Lieutenant Priscilla. Under her leadership and guidance, you shall become the ultimate sentinels of humanity. Against you, the locust shall crumple and be beaten back. If you succeed in your task, the rewards will be numerous. Future generations of humans shall remember the four who turned back the locust. However, if you shall fail, death carries a heavy price. If you should fail, humanity will fall with you. Good luck to you, and may victory be yours!" The six of them gave a cheer. Prescot was good with words. His rhetorical brilliance was the reason why humanity had not collapsed in upon itself in the wake of the long war.

Fourteen years ago, on Emergence Day, Chairman Prescot awoke to carnage and a crisis unimaginable to anyone. The locust killed everyone in their path. With the entire planet hanging on his words, he rallied the populace behind the COG banner. Everyone who could, went to Jacinto. To those who couldn't, he issued an apology before taking decisive action. He ordered a scorched earth policy. Kill everywhere on the planet that isn't ours. In the early days, his flair and decisiveness won him many followers. But, the long and grueling conflict had weakened his popularity. It was his ability to persuade people and his skill at oratory that kept the COG running. He had diffused more riots and schisms than most people had hot meals. He followed the idea: fight and live as one, or die as many! So far, it had worked. He had managed to keep control of a discontent and scared populace for more than fourteen years. He had the most brilliant men on Sera under his command, and dealt with problems with ruthless efficiency. However, words only counted for so much. He had to match his fiery speeches with effective action. For this, he had Victor Hoffman.

Hoffman wasn't a man of words. He was a man of action, and a diehard supported of the COG. He had kept the COG army running for all these years, and had delivered victories against the locust, even in the face of seemingly impossible odds. Although now it was time for these titans to end their part. They kept the big picture running, and the little men would do their part: fight and die. With salutes, they sent of Iota squad. Prescot returned to tackling one of the endless problems with running a war-torn planet, and Hoffman returned to fighting tooth and nail for the army.

Outside of control, the four gears they had addressed now exited. "Follow me." Said Camilla and she led them to their barracks. It was on a different block from Delta's. The inside was bare bones. No one had inhabited this one before. The beds were dressed, and that was about it. Everyone was tired as they got out of their armor and began claiming bunks. Gordon initially kept his eyes averted from the women, fearing that he would be smacked silly, but they didn't seem to mind. They wore light shirts under their armor, and typically had on a pair of shorts. They were obviously used to being ogled by horny servicemen. "You can look," said a voice. "We don't care." Gordon looked behind him and saw black woman with braided hair addressing him in a nightie. She turned away and Gordon continued preparing for bed. He took out his Wakizashi and examined the blade. He kept this weapon with him, since he never knew when he might have to go face to face with the locust, and he wanted to always have the upper hand. The sword was short, yet better than the combat knife. He had tried it on wretches and the blade made short work of smaller locusts. Once he had taken out a pair of drones from behind by decapitating them.

Gordon wasn't careless with is weapon either. He was sure to take proper care with it. It was a high quality weapon, and needed to be properly maintained. He had seen gears with with hardware store hatchets and kitchen knives. Those were cheap and mass produced. A proper sword forged by hand was expensive, but well worth the cost. It had gotten him out of some truly nasty situations, and had never failed him. Also, having an extra large knife was a very good way of telling off rowdy drunks without being arrested for fighting. He only had to slightly loosen the weapon and people would back off. He put the weapon back into its sheath and lay on his back.

The same woman who had spoken with him earlier addressed all of them: "Tomorrow, we are to begin training. Before then, it would be beneficial to squad relations if each one of you gave your name, rank, and what you would like to be called. I'll begin. My name is Lieutenant Priscilla Camilla Dally. You may call me ma'am or Lieutenant Pricilla. And you are?" She was pointing at a platinum blonde sitting on a top bunk with her hair in a bun.

"Ma'am, I am Sergeant Bianca Noel Rider. You all may call me Noel or Sargess. What is your name?" She was pointing at Gordon.

"My name," said Gordon. "is Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim. You may call me Gordon. May I ask what your name is?" Gordon was looking at a pale read-haired girl with a buzz cut.

She said: "I'm Private Zoey Hannah Irene. Please, just call me Irene."

There was a brief silence before Priscilla said: "We have a long training day ahead of us tomorrow. Lights out.

"Yes ma'am," said Noel as she hopped down and turned off the lights. Gordon quickly fell asleep wondering what was going to happen later.


	5. Hoplite Instruction

Phalanx 5: Hoplite Instruction

Summary: Iota Squad in training.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gears Of War, and I don't have anything worth taking, so don't sue me! I own the Original Characters: Gordon, Mathew, Amanda, Noel, Irene, and Priscilla. Other than that, I'm just renting.

The Bugle call for revile came at 0500 hours the next morning. Gordon rose reminiscing on a nice dread he had experienced the previous night. He had saved Marcus Fenix and Dominic Santiago from a locust attack, and was transferred to Delta Squad for it and had been awarded the Steel Gear medal for his actions. Then, he had been transferred into a new unit made up of women. He put on his armor and was getting ready to report for roll call when he stumbled off of his bed and leaned against something soft.

Soft, and now that he was paying attention to his surrounded and not his dream, warm. Since when was anything military soft? He looked up and saw that he was pushing into the side of a platinum blonde woman? Wait, woman? Then suddenly he remembered. Slightly shocked he said: "Sorry, Sergeant Noel."

"Don't worry," she replied as he hastily cut off the contact. Gordon put on his helmet and stepped outside, taking his wakizashi with him. He stood at attention as Lieutenant Priscilla strutted down the line, much like Tucker had back in Pi, and much unlike Marcus back in Delta. Well, at least for the short time he had known Marcus as his commanded in Delta. It turned out that his new commander had a different style.

"From left to right, call out your names, begin!" She was obviously a woman concerned with regulations, but appeared to be more interested in efficiency, rather than exact protocol, seeing how she preferred to have her minions name themselves rather than undergo discourse with all of them.

"Sergeant Bianca Noel Rider, Ma'am!" recited the silverette.

"Private Zoey Hanna Irene, at your service, Ma'am!" yelled the redhead.

"Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim, reporting for duty, Ma'am!" countered Gordon.

"Let's go to breakfast, and move out!" ordered the negress. Everyone followed, with Gordon taking up the rear. He wasn't looking at the eye candy, or trying to cop a feel, although he did note that his new comrades were quite attractive. They were all well formed, and well proportioned. Their bodies bespoke of physical strength. He was at the back of the group so that he could learn their physical features, most noticeably their heads, since in combat, motion, such as ducking your head under cover or looking about generally attracted the eye the most. He quickly could tell the difference in their hair colors and hairstyles. Priscilla's mane was dark black and she wore her hair contained in a band, keeping it out of her vision and allowing it to reach down to her shoulderblades. Noel had silver colored hair, beyond platinum blonde. It was done up into a bun that somehow, as Gordon wasn't quite sure, didn't make her look like a librarian. Finally, there was the red-haired Irene. Hers was cut short, practically in a buzz cut. And then, there was his hair. Gordon hadn't properly taken the time to look in the mirror for a while. He remembered his hair to be a golden blond. It was quite an unusual color for someone of his ethnic appearance to have. Despite what many people asked him, he had been born with this color, or more accurately, red hair. It had darkened and turned yellow when he was about two.

He was taken from his thoughts by their arrival into the mess hall. Immediately, they were greeted with a kind of shocked silence. Then, a lot of the men started whistling and catcalling. Gordon wanted to go around and give every one of them an extremely deep cleansing with his sword. He caught a lot of whistles and many other shouts of "you lucky bastard!" At last, they got their food and sat down at a table, which, fortunately, was free of randy soldiers. Gordon took his helmet of and began to eat. He was thinking about how he had gotten assigned to these women, and he remembered that he hadn't explained any of this to Delta, or Cole, or Baird.

"I'll be back," he said, as he rose from his seat. He located his friends' table and went over to it. Immediately, Cole gave him a hearty pat on the back and congratulations. "Damn man, how'd you get put in a squad with those fine ladies?"

"I proved some sort of concept to command. Something to do with shields and phalanxes being used to defend Jacinto. It's apparently a kind of military home guard, because they're allowing women to fight in it. I'd almost say that it's for women and I'm just a man permitted to join. Anyways, we're the first squad of our kind, and they hope to make more like us." Brian said all this loud enough for everyone to hear so that he wouldn't have to repeat himself, oh how he hated that. He tried to shy away from using metaphors or big words, as this would probably confuse his audience. "Also," he explained, "I'm not getting any." He put particular emphasis on the last three words. "It's a professional and highly important function, and I won't jeopardize everyone for my personal lust."

"Aha," laughed Cole. "I knew you didn't swing the other way. C'mon Baird, you owe me five dollars!" Gordon decided he'd better talk with the other three now that Baird and Cole were in a solid argument about if Baird would have to pay Cole anything or not. He took a seat next to Dom and began explaining himself to Marcus, Dom, and Tai. They seemed to actually be paying attention to what was going on rather than the fact that he was surrounded a trio of sexy babes.

"I don't know what command's up to, but it can't be good," said Marcus.

"I don't know man," added Dom.

"This is a mysterious act of fate," stated Tai with his usual air of wisdom.

"Well, I'll be hopefully speaking to you guys later," concluded Gordon. He needed to get back to his squad and eat before he ran out of time. The guys, including Cole and Baird, who had stopped fighting, with an exceptionally gloomy Baird handing over ten dollars to an overjoyed Cole said their goodbyes, then went back to their breakfasts. Nobody seemed to pay much attention to Gordon on his trip back to the table possibly, because his feminine compatriots weren't with him. He was just ten feet from his table when a familiar and odious voice halted him.

"So," said Mathew with his usual air of conceit. "How did you get those three hotties over there?" Amanda was on the other end of the table.

"I told," replied Gordon. "Your girl was just my spare."

"I mean, how much did you pay to get those whores to follow you around, retar-"Mathew never finished his sentence.

Before anyone could react, Priscilla had risen from her seat, leapt onto Mathew, and began beating his face to a pulp. A look of pure consuming rage was in her eyes and her teeth were bared. All she concentrated on was causing Mathew as much pain as possible. Gordon yanked her off Mathew and was nearly bowled over by her resistance. She growled like a pack of wolves and went after Mathew, still in shock and holding his battered face tentatively, Amanda cautiously looking at him.

With a great effort, Gordon managed to pin Priscilla against a wall. The other two women in the squad looked dumbstruck.

"Never, call us that again!" raged Priscilla, her voice containing rage beyond that of mortal men. She made another pounce at Mathew, but Gordon had her properly contained. He had rammed her back against the wall and was using his left hand to hold down her right arm, and his right arm to pin back her left arm. She was putting up quite an impressive fight. He doubted that he'd be able to restrain her if she had been focusing her energy on anything other than mashing Mathew into a jelly. For what seemed like a hellish eternity at breaking point, Priscilla stopped struggling.

Gordon released his bind on the madwoman rather warily, not knowing if this was just a ruse to get another round at Mathew's face, or if she had truly surrendered. Nobody said a word. The whole cafeteria was staring at them, their faces torn between horror and fascination. Mathew looked like he wanted to vanish, and Amanda was holding him like a torn rose.

To everyone's relief, Priscilla sat back down, still steamed over Mathew, but not in a psychotic rage. She began stabbing her eggs with a violence that proved she was still furious, although calmer than she was earlier.

"Do you think that she's okay?" whispered Irene to him.

"I think she will," replied Gordon. "I didn't think that anything like that would ever happen. Lieutenant Priscilla seemed like such a tough, controlled woman. I didn't think that she had it in her But still, if she's been chosen to lead an experimental squad in charge of the security of Jacinto City, she must have many qualities that justify putting her in that place. Maybe her aggression is one of them. I mean, isn't it a good idea to have the defenders against a brutal and relentless enemy be just as vicious as the enemy? Also, if she fails here, it's game over for all of us, so I think that her other qualities should more than compensate for her anger."

Irene nodded her head. "I guess you're right, she said." Then, she went back to eating.

Gordon the noticed a physical feature that Irene had, she was taller than him by a full twelve inches. Overall, she was quite lean in her physique. She was probably a runner, suited for fast moving combat. It wouldn't explain her presence in a unit that would probably rely of brute force in battle. Gordon himself was about five foot four inches. Gordon suddenly remembered that he had to hurry up and eat. He quickly gobbled up his eggs and washed down his tea. When the meal came to a close, they all followed Priscilla, who seemed to have calmed down substantially from her outburst twenty minutes earlier, and was now no longer clenching her fists. They stopped marching and Priscilla briefed them: "Today, we are going to establish the basics of fighting in the phalanx. We will assign weapons and positions, as well as formations. Command has allocated three boomsheilds to our unit. Then, we shall break for lunch. Next, we will attempt to navigate in the phalanx and become more integrated as a team. Then, it's dinner, and finally, lights out. Understood?"

"Understood, ma'am," said everyone spiritedly. Gordon wasn't enthusiastic in reality, he was noticing similarities between Priscilla and Tucker, and didn't want to have to shout yes ma'am five to six times before she finally would let them continue. With that, Priscilla began to interrogate them about their heights as well as left or right handedness.

When asked about how tall she saw, Noel said, "Five-eight and right-handed, ma'am."

Irene said that she was a six-four right-hander, and Gordon told her that he was five-four lefty. Priscilla said that she was five-ten and was ambidextrous. "Now that I've got that information, I can come up with how we're going to come together. Irene, Noel, come with me. Gordon, get your shield and your gun, then come back." Without another word, the three of them left, leaving Gordon alone with his thoughts to get his equipment. He sat there, thinking of his squadmates. He wasn't being overly sexual in his imaginings. He was thinking of what they were like as people and what they would be like as soldiers.

He got the idea from seeing Priscilla going berserk in the mess. The other two seemed stable, at least. Noel's personality was moderately outgoing, although was tempered by regulation. She seemed to be a more orderly type of female, believing in rules and regulations. However, she definitely had a flirty side. She almost seemed to have been half joking when she made the "sargess " comment the previous night. She also seemed to be self-conscious, because she had done everything possible to look good, even in regulation attire. On the other hand, there was Irene. She seemed to be less concerned about appearances. However, she seemed to be more enthusiastic by nature, as well as more genuinely concerned about others. When Priscilla had stopped trying to maul Mathew, she looked more compassionate than afraid.

Gordon didn't have much of a clue about Priscilla; unlike any woman he had ever met. She was logical, decisive, strong, and professional. Unlike other women, she didn't seem to try flirting at every available opportunity she seemed to be focused on her job, in an almost zombie-esque way. Gordon was twiddling a piece of grass in his hand when the women returned. They were each carrying a boomsheild. They all stood facing Priscilla, each one of them holding a shield.

"Let's begin," she said. "On my command, each one of you take up the position you are told. Noel: front left. Gordon: front right. Irene: rear right. As more me, I'm rear left. She was holding a pistol that he had never seen before. It was not at all like the snub. It appeared powerful , and was fed by a magazine. It was more of a submachine gun than a pistol. The other two each had a snub.

They were now in a roughly square formation. Priscilla instructed Irene to follow her example to stick their shields out to cover the flanks. They then practiced setting up the formation and raising their shields without fumbling for the rest of the morning, then came lunch. There were still men making out catcalls to the girls, but Priscilla gave them one stern look, and the entire room turned white. It was relatively uneventful. Mathew tensed up as they passed, but Priscilla luckily ignored him. Iota Squad got their food and sat down at the same table as earlier. Noel and Irene were chatting animatedly with regular input from Priscilla. Gordon wasn't contributing much. He was never very confident with people, especially women, particularly attractive ones. Besides, he didn't have anything to say about the topic. It sounded like some stupid thing that girls liked to chatter on about. Irene noticed that he was keeping silent and asked him: "Gordon, why aren't you talking? Is there something wrong?"

"No," said Gordon. "Nothing's wrong."

"Want to talk about it?" offered Irene earnestly. Gordon had never known anyone so genuinely concerned for the welfare of their fellows.

"It's nothing. What are you talking about anyways?"

"What we did before we joined the army." said Noel. "Come on, you can tell us. We won't spread around your secrets. It's just us girls here."

"It's okay," coaxed Irene. "We won't laugh or get you in trouble. We won't let it affect our opinion of you. I'll even tell you about me if you tell us about yourself."

This instantly set Gordon on edge. People had told him in the past that he couldtrust them. He had believed them, to his detriment. Cynical, yet strangely trusting, he said: "I was a student until about two years ago. I joined the army after my academic career was ended, and I didn't want to live on the streets. There's only one way that a life on the streets can end, on the bad side of a gun." Priscilla nodded in approval.

Living up to her end of the bargain, much to Gordon's surprise, was Irene. She told them: "I joined the army about four years ago, when I was twenty-two. I saw a poster of a soldier being overrun by locusts, and I guess I wanted to make a difference. I joined up. I didn't want to be just a voice over the radio. I wanted to do something, to crusade for the good of mankind. Anyways, I was held in backwaters and in secure zones as a guard, so I haven't seen much combat. That's my story. Could you tell his yours, Sargess?"

Just so that he could hear her, Noel recited: "I come from a military family. All my family has served in the military, ever since before the pendulum wars. I joined up about six years ago when I was eighteen. They wouldn't let me fight unless I could prove that I was infertile, or had already borne at least one able bodied son. Since I hadn't had any children, because I wasn't married, I told the recruiter that I was infertile. He believed me, and that's how I joined the army. What about you, ma'am?"

"Enough talk, it's time to get back out there and train." rebutted Priscilla. They all returned to the grassy mound and resumed drills. They were learning how to reload and fire inside a phalanx. This lead to many awkward moments between Gordon and Noel until he finally figured out how to fire and reload his boltok revolver with another hand against his firing a snub pistol. After that, they began learning how to maneuver in the phalanx. This initially, much to Priscilla's dismay, resulted in pile ups that ranged from hilarious to downright embarrassing. After crawling himself out from between Priscilla and her boomsheild for the seventh, time, things began to improve. While they were no longer tripping over each other while making basic movements such as left, right, up and down, they were still not ready for combat. At best, enemy locusts that they fought would die of laughter watching Gordon try to extricate himself from a pile of tripped-up women without being a total pervert.

At last, the sun set for evening. Bruised, battered, and with a few inside jokes between them, Iota squad came into the dining hall for supper. This time, there were a few halfhearted catcalls, but when Priscilla began to look in the direction of the callers, everything went silent. They sat down and began eating. Gordon got up to go speak with his guy friends again.

"Hey man," called Dom as he neared the table. Cole moved over to provide a seat.

"So," said Baird. "how's the harem?"

Marcus gave Baird an angry look that was only one thousandth of the intensity that Priscilla had glared at Mathew with just that morning, but shut Baird up. Gordon shrugged it off and replied "improving."

"So, what's it like to train with women?" asked Dom sensitively.

"Interesting," said Gordon.

"What kind of interesting?" inquired Cole, who was somehow not laughing with the force of an angry corpser.

"I'll tell you one thing: It's unlike training with other guys." answered Gordon. "For one thing, the women that I'm with don't have the standoffish attitude that a lot of guys have. Secondly, they seem to have a good laugh, even in the middle of serious training. Hell, even Priscilla's cracked more jokes in one day than Marcus does in a week. Thirdly, the experience is much more physical. I don't mean like in an erotic sense. I mean literally. There's a lot more contact between us than there is between any other squad. Overall, I think that adding a woman or two to every squad might really be good for morale."

"I can imagine how," snickered Baird.

"The cow would do well to remember the butcher." warned Tai cryptically. Gordon assumed that he was referring to Priscilla.

"Well, guys, I've got to get back to my meal." said Gordon.

"Before you go," said Marcus. "can you answer one question?"

"What is it?"

"Are you going in the assault on Landown tomorrow?"

"What's that?"

"Ah forget it." growled Marcus. "Well anyways, if you see Carmine, tell him to report back to barracks immediately after dinner's over. We're discussing tactics for tomorrow."

"Well, good luck to you guys. I hope Carmine does okay." said Gordon. The others did their usual goodbyes and Gordon returned to his table without incident.

He sat down, and was immediately questioned by Noel: "Who were you talking to?"

"Just some friends."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Anything interesting?"

"Yes, sargess. Tomorrow, there's some kind of assault on Landown. Apparently, we're not going. Lieutenant Priscilla, did you know about this?"

"Yes I did, but I decided that it would be better not to inform you so that you could concentrate on your training." answered their leader.

"I get your reasoning. If you had, it would have distracted us from our training." Thus began a discussion on the ethics of information distribution between the two soldiers. When the meal ended, they returned back to barracks. They stopped outside for their debriefing.

"Iota," addressed Priscilla. "We have had a long and eventful day of training. Tomorrow, awaits another one. At ease. You are to report back here at 0505 hours sharp for your briefing tomorrow! Is that clear?"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

"Good, dismissed!"

They all filed inside the barracks and began to divest themselves of their armor. Fortunately, the girls were still wearing their cotton undershirts and white shorts. Gordon was just wearing a light pair of shorts and a tank top. Armor against bare skin was uncomfortable. As Gordon was examining his sword again, Irene sat down on his bed next to him. He was taken aback. He had never had such close contact with any female other than his mother or medical professionals, except for the times he had fallen over or being piled on like in training. He put the weapon away and sat next to her and looked into her eyes, which he noticed were filled a kindly look and had a strangely teal color.

She asked him: "Gordon, is there anything you're hiding from us?"

"Like what?" He was already feeling uncomfortable from the close proximity to someone who he found so attractive, and being questioned for secrets immediately tensed him up.

"About your past," she clarified. "About who you are. Is there anything you can't tell us?"

Gordon's mind began racing. He was very nervous now. He was now being asked by an oblivious woman to reveal his biggest secret. She wasn't even trying to cause him this duress, but he couldn't tell her, no matter what she did. If the truth about his identity was revealed, Iota Squad would collapse, important people would die, and humanity would fall. Fighting back extreme trepidation, he told her as calmly as he could: "Yes."

"Why can't you?" she asked innocuously.

"Because, I just can't."

"Is it bad? Did you do something?"

"I didn't do anything. It's, just that if the wrong person heard about it, some really important people would be in trouble, and possibly be killed for it, and Iota Squad would fall apart. For everyone's sake, I can't tell you. At least, not now. Maybe in a couple years' time I can. But until then, it has to remain secret. You must believe me. I can't even attempt to give you a hint. The truth is just too dangerous. Other than for that thing which must remain secret, you may ask me for anything."

Irene looked stunned. She clearly had not expected such a response when she posed her question. What Gordon had told entirely changed. She thought that maybe he had done something stupid in his youth. An episode with a street gang, or at the very worst, getting a girl pregnant. A matter that could spell the doom of humanity was beyond anything she could have imagined it was. She wanted to be able for him to confide in her. She hated suffering in all its forms. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Thank you for understanding." replied Gordon. Much to his surprise, he found that suddenly Irene had gotten closer. She reached put her arms around him and held him there. This was a new, although highly pleasant sensation for Gordon: the warmth of a woman, and he answered in kind. They held each other for a brief time before splitting apart.

"Good night," she said as she returned to her own bed.

"Good night," he replied back to her.

"Lights off." ordered Priscilla. Noel got up and turned off the light before setting back down to bed. Gordon soon fell asleep to a storm of inner doubt and dilemmas.

Author's notes.

. The proper term for Gordon's sword is Wakizashi (a short Japanese sword).

. I have nothing against dark-skinned people. I call Priscilla black because she is. I gave her berserk episode because I thought that it would be a good opportunity to define character somewhat.

. I apologize for any possible confusion in calling Noel a platinum blonde in Phalanx 4, yet calling her a silverette (I invented that word; it means silver haired women, similarto how brunette means brown haired woman.) Silverette is the term I will use from now on.

. Sorry if you found some of the content to be too fluffy. I'm just trying to illustrate Gordon's perspective as well as possible.

.My apologies if you disapprove of some of the more "erotic" scenes. I will be continuing on with the series. Those are just in there to provide more perspective.

.I plan on having some romance between Irene and Gordon, although that will be explored more in a later story if there is support for the pairing, let me know.

. Yes, I will begin the main part of the story soon.

. The personalities and identities of the original character cast will be developed more as well as their relationships with each other will be expanded in later chapters.

.I will reveal what Gordon's secret is, so don't pester me about it.

.I do not plan on making all my chapters so long, this one just turned out long.

.Yes, the names of the women of Iota Squad are all claymore references.

.The story will be about Iota Squad in Jacinto and the surrounding areas during the events of Gears of War 2.


	6. Advanced Guard

Phalanx 6: Advanced Guard

Summary: Iota Squad's first day on the job.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gears Of War, or My Chemical Romance, and I don't have anything worth taking, so don't sue me! I own the Original Characters: Gordon, Mathew, Amanda, Noel, Irene, and Priscilla. Other than that, I'm just renting.

At 0500, the bugle sounded for revile. The gears of the COG Army were rising on a day that would go down in history. Gordon woke, his mind eased significantly since the previous night. He mechanical donned his armor and stepped outside for roll call.

"From left to right, recite your names and ranks." shouted Priscilla. "And, begin!"

"Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim, ma'am!"

"Sergeant Bianca Noel Rider, ma'am!"

"Private Zoey Hanna Irene, ma'am!"

"Everyone is in order. To the mess hall, and march!" barked Priscilla. She was still exuding he aura of confidence, although she didn't seem to be used to power. Iota Squad obeyed and marched down to the mess hall. They entered to much less fanfare than they had yesterday. Apparently, news of Priscilla decking Mathew had spread quickly. The men weren't making catcalls, probably because they were scared for their lives.

The amount of chatter was less today. Everyone seemed tenser. Squads stuck together, even Cole and Baird were with Alpha. Gordon saw a gear at Delta's table sitting beside Marcus looking eager. He had to be Carmine, because he didn't recognize the soldier, and no seasoned gear was that enthusiastic. Gordon didn't get a good look at the kid's face, because it was obscured beyond Marcus's head, which was wearing a snarl. The only real feature that he could discern is that the kid wore the newer green armor.

Gordon stop long to look, but followed his squad into the food line and sat down, his tray laden with eggs, a mini waffle, and some yogurt. The meal passed uneventfully, without Mathew, who was sporting a black eye butting in. That was a pleasant change, and good for the safety of all involved. This was for two reasons: number one: Priscilla would probably take a knife this time and gut Mathew on the spot. Number two: Mathew was probably armed and would shoot Priscilla. Breakfast passed without incident, and when it was over, Iota Squad filed out back to the same spot as the previous day to receive Priscilla's instructions.

"Today," she began. "We are the staging area for the Landown assault to provide security and to sweep the area before anyone else arrives. At 0700 hours, a King Raven will fly us to our destination. At 0900 hours, we will arrive at the destination and begin scouring the area for any possible threats to COG infantry and vehicles. Our orders are to kill any locust on sight and to check and safely dispose of any landmines. At 1100 hours, Assault Derricks and other vehicles will arrive. At 1300 hours, additional infantry will begin to arrive. By 1500 hours, final preparations will be completed and we will return to base by APC that will be delivered. We will return to base and report in at 1800 hours. Then, we will take supper and file our report with command. Finally, we will return to barracks, where I will debrief you. Am I clear?"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" thundered back everyone.

"Good, now get your weapons and meet up at KR pad thirteen. The time is 0600 hours. Go!" Everyone returned to the barracks to arm and prepare for the operation. Gordon put on his helmet, his shield, and holstered his boltok. He wondered if it was worth bringing his wakizashi. He weighed the pros and cons in his head, before deciding that it a better decision to err on the side of caution and bring the sword with him. After all, they would be the advance team, and if the locust knew they were coming, they had to be ready for anything. The last thing that Gordon wanted was to be at the mercy of a shotgun-wielding grenadier with is revolver out of bullets. He took the sword and bucked it around his waist before attending to his gun.

He gave his boltok a good examination. He checked and cleaned the weapon. Taking care, he removed dirt and grime from the cylinder, the barrel, and the chambers. He popped out the cylinder and gave it a few spins. He popped it in and out, checking for glitches or signs of weakness. He found none and began inspecting the hammer. It worked beautifully; the action was nice and smooth. Then, he checked the trigger. It was good to go; not excessively hard to pull, but not so light that he would let of a round on accident. And the amount of force necessary to fire a round was just right. Every shot he would let loose would come out as he intended. Gordon was confident in his aim, although reasonably queasy. Everyone from trainees to Pendulum Wars veterans felt at least some fear before going into combat. It was only natural.

The women and man of Iota Squad left their barracks with a palpable tension and walked off toward KR pad thirteen. Gordon looked to his comrades. Priscilla was wearing her shield on her arm. Her face was set into hard lines and she was carrying a lancer along with her machine pistol. Irene was looking tense, and seemed to be staring off somewhat absentmindedly into space. She had a grip on her Snub Pistol as well as a sniper rifle, and her shield was already on her arm. Noel was looking at Priscilla expectantly. Unlike the others, she was carrying her shield on her back, and was holding grenades and flamethrower in addition to her Snub Pistol.

They reached the helipad after fifteen minutes of walking, and waited around for roughly five minutes until the pilot arrived. He was cocky and introduced himself as Tex. With a few pleasantries exchanged, the gears got on the helicopter and began the flight to their destination.'

The journey itself was uneventful, although tense and mostly silent. Everyone seemed to be afraid that they wouldn't come back. Gordon noticed that they had different means of coping with stress. Their officer fiddled with her gun. The redhead clutched at her seat tightly. The silverette seemed to be reciting some kind of plan under her breath. Their pilot, Tex, tried cracking a few jokes, although the stony silences he received shut him up rather quickly. The gunner, who was named Louis, kept himself constantly vigilant, scanning the skies ready to unload at the slightest sign of trouble.

Along the way, Gordon though for sure that he had seen dark shapes moving beneath them, but he couldn't get a good look. Once, he was sure that he had seen the ink trail of a nemacyst hurtling toward them. He looked again, and saw that it was only a wispy cloud.

At last, they reached their destination: a large open field. They immediately dismounted and formed a square, shields out and ready to fire. Tex and Louis flew away, the noise of their chopper becoming fainter and fainter until it finally passed beyond hearing. Not sensing any threat, Iota squad dispersed and began to explore the clearing. There were no footprints or other impressions in the ground to show locust activity. All the grass was lush and long. Obviously, it hadn't been disturbed by the diggings of the locust. There were no upturned or disturbed patches in the soil, indicating a lack of mines. The area seemed secure, when suddenly, the tranquility was shattered and the four soldiers were plunged into chaos.

Gordon was wondering how much time was left until the vehicles began to arrive when an inhuman shriek pierced the quiet. "Wretches!" yelled Noel. Everybody drew their guns and huddled behind their shields, watching the perimeter in an agonized silence. After what seemed like hours, they were surrounded by wretches. The wretches all came advancing out of the trees at them at once. In seconds, they were engulfed by a swarm of wretches.

Gunfire echoed out as Priscilla ordered: "Open fire!" Immediately, the frightened gears unleashed a volley of lead into the oncoming swarm. Gordon let of six rounds in rapid succession, each one felling a wretch, sending them to the ground in bloody heaps. He reloaded his pistol, fingers trembling. He was terrified. At Lamertza, he knew that there would be enemies, and that he could die. Here, however, the fear of the unknown shook him.

Confusion was Gordon's primary experience. Thirty seconds earlier, he had been daydreaming about what would be for dinner that night. All of a sudden, he and his companions were fighting for their lives against a flood of savage beasts. Gordon fumbled with the revolver as he reloaded, fear causing him to shake. He hastily refilled the chambers and slid the cylinder back into line with the barrel. He cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger. The first wretch was struck on the head, exploding a mess of gray matter and tissues. He took aim at the second, wretch, blowing its armed off. The creature shrieked on the ground in pain as blood loss took its toll. The third wretch was only four feet from him as he let off the projectile. The round flew forth, impact its target in the heart, stopping it cold.

The wretches were now pressing up against the frantic defenders. Gordon could smell their rancid breath and hear the rustling of their feet on the turf. Gordon launched his fourth bullet. The merciless slug scored direct hit on a wretch, catching the monstrosity in the guts as it leapt up to take a chunk out of its prey. The fifth wretch rammed into Gordon's shield, momentarily putting him off balance. He shot the wretch in the lower body, leaving it to die under the merciless onslaught of its fellows. The sixth wretch bounded right over its body, and received a consequential lead crowning from Gordon. The mass of wretches was too close now. He couldn't reload. He drew his wakizashi and reaped the wretches with merciless steel.

Around him, his comrades were putting up an impressive fight. Thanks to Noel's call to action, and the few moments before the attack began, they were in a square at the center of the field. Each one of them faced out in a different direction like the four points of a compass, exacting the toll of death from all who would dare approach them. Irene and Noel were putting out volleys of fire from their pistols. The guns smoked from the heat of rapid firing. Priscilla was fighting valiantly with her own gun. Her sub machinegun fired heavy slugs of lead into the charging wretches. Her crosshairs, sweeping across her field of vision, left death in their wake.

Gordon plunged his sword into the ribcage of a wretch, then withdrew it and decapitated another. The fight had only begun twenty minutes ago, yet he ached with fatigue and heat. He wanted to give himself a rest, there was no end to the multitudes they were fighting. Suddenly, without warning, the fighting stopped. No more wretches charged across the field. Tired, Gordon sheathed his wakizashi and reloaded his pistol. He cocked it, but turned on the safety, just in case. He was glad that the assault had stopped, he didn't even notice how strange it was that the locust had suddenly ended the engagement. He took a quick drink from his canteen and wiped the sweat off his brow. The next thing he saw made him wish that the attack hadn't stopped.

Flying out of the sun, darted eight tentacle objects. They were larger than nemacysts, but quickly neared them. The four dropped back into their defensive formation just in time. A barrage of rockets sailed forth from the creatures and landed all around them, cratering the bloodied field. Gordon recognized them immediately. "Reavers!" he called, just as the first rocket whizzed past over their heads. He heard Priscilla older hold your fire until they're in range.

Gordon crouched behind his shield, squeezing the trigger on his boltok. The tension was almost unbearable as they waited for their adversaries to get closer. They drew nearer. Gordon could count their tentacles and see the fangs that lined the maws of the flying beasts of war, until, from what seemed to him a great distance away, Irene yelled: "Shoot!" The woman emptied all twelve rounds from her magazine into the head of the nearest reaver, killing the monster. Having no time to appraise her extreme feat of marksmanship, everyone unloaded a volley into the remainder while she slammed another twelve rounds into her gun. The riders on the reavers opened up with machine gun fire from their troikas, thudding against the shields of Iota Squad. They weathered the blasts, pressing against the force of the high-caliber bullets. In unison, they released another volley from their guns, downing the reavers. Their pilots and passengers died on impact with the ground.

Despite their impressive resistance, the situation degraded even more. From under the ground, a nightmare of legs exploded onto the surface. "Corpser, Are you god damn kidding me!" stormed Priscilla. The titan shielded itself with its legs as it advanced upon the group. They scattered, taking out their big guns.

The beast raised three mammoth legs, poising them to strike down upon the gears, when Priscilla pounded its underside with lancer bullets. "Shoot it's guts!" thundered the negress. The corpse reared up in agony. Its underbelly was soft and vulnerable to small arms' fire. The desperate soldiers, running low on ammunition, opened up on the hulking beast, holding nothing back. It thrashed in agony as lancer bullets from Priscilla and longshot bullets from Irene and snub bullets from Noel and boltok bullets from Gordon tore through its soft flesh. Its tortured convulsions tore up the ground.

"Get a grenade in there," yelled Gordon to Noel. The silverette took a bolo grenade from her belt and began swinging it.

"Hurry," urged Irene, who was on her last three rounds."We can't keep this up forever." Twirling the explosive rapidly, Noel threw the antipersonnel bomb into the corpser's open jaws. It then exploded, silencing the giant locust. Then, there was silence.

"We made it," said Irene weakly."I can't believe it."

"Holy shit, we're still somehow alive," wondered Gordon aloud.

Noel said: "We did it!"

The celebration was cut short by a tired, yet very relevant reminder from Priscilla: "Don't let your guard down, we still have hours to go." This sobered up her compatriots, and they began to watch the perimeter astutely, fearing a locust counterattack. Gordon wondered why the attack hadn't killed them. They were the only gears for miles, and they had somehow survived a full out assault by the Locust Horde. That didn't make sense. The locust had not used any bloodmounts, boomers, or in fact, any regular infantry on them at all. Gordon looked to the ground, deep in thought. He suddenly saw what the enemy had tried to achieve: Making the staging area as ruined as possible without halting the operation. The enemy knew that the COG was coming, and wanted to keep it that way. The reason for the attack on Iota Squad was so that they would be able to damage the field for the vehicles as badly as possible and still have forces to spare. They didn't use drones or boomers because they wanted to keep them in reserve. They used massive numbers of wretches; so many that their bodies would pile up, and hopefully, some of the decay from the bodies would cause sickness to enemy soldiers.

The implications were huge: the enemy was attempting to protract the war through any means necessary. They had to win, and soon. The four soldiers remain quiet, until the vehicle drivers arrived. They did their best to remove the grisly remains of slain locusts from the field, although the blood made the ground into a soggy quagmire.

The rest of the mission went quietly, no problems, although is passed in a blur to Gordon. Gordon didn't meet up with Delta, or Cole, or Baird. At 1500 hours, as promised, a King Raven dropped off their APC and they began to drive home. The return trip was mostly quiet. Everyone was drained after their fight, and Gordon didn't want to upset them by telling them that they were playing into the hands of the enemy. Still, he had to let them know. He started: "Hey, Noel, do you know why the locust attacked us?"

The woman gave him a look and said, "Because they're our enemies?"

"That's part of it, but I think there's a deeper reason." said Gordon.

"Is that so?" She sounded skeptical.

"Yes. I think that the locust were trying to put a damper on the offensive rather than halt it. They're trying to get us to attack on their terms. I think that they were targeting the field so that they could disrupt the assault. The reason why they used those attacks is so that they could crater and tear up the ground without causing the operation to be canceled."

Priscilla interjected: "That would explain why they made their weird choice of forces. If they were trying to kill us, they could have easily overwhelmed us with a mass attack of drones." After that, they finished their journey in silence. They went to the mess hall for supper. It was nearly empty, save for a dozen gears that had been left behind as reserves. They ate in relative silence too, then filed their reports to command.

Gordon personally hated having to write up official reports. They took a long time to write and were inflexible. After about an hour, they were done with their reports, but Gordon had one last thing he wanted to do. He wrote in his report: Enemy is adopting unconventional tactics, and is using a new strategy. Recommend increasing security around Jacinto. Alert forward troops to be prepared for anything.

With that being done, he followed his fellows to their barracks for debriefing.

Priscilla summarized: "We have a hard day today. We battle an army of wretches, killed a squadron of reavers, and killed a corpser. Intel from the front lines suggest that we are succeeding. Good work, Iota. Dismissed."

They entered into their barracks and got out of their armor. He noticed that Noel seemed to be excited about something and asked Priscilla about it. With a nod that obviously meant: yes, Noel gave a delighted squeal and asked out loud: "Who wants to go to town and do some celebrating?"

The other two females approved, and Gordon did, thinking that he ought to be able to have a little fun in his life. He suddenly remembered that he had no civilian clothing. All his garments were either his armor or his underlayers, and you couldn't go out in public wearing nothing except a cotton tee shirt and shorts. He put his armor back on, preparing to go out. He wasn't a party guy, but he enjoyed being able to relax your guard and not have to worry about being killed at any moment. He stepped out the door and began walking towards the downtown area of Jacinto. He heard feminine laughter behind him, and figured that he was hearing his squadmates. He turned around and saw his three squadmates, but entire different from how they had been just fifteen minutes previously. They were in fun, light outfits suited to partying.

Noel, the silverette was letting her hair down for quite a pleasant effect. She had applied a hidden stash of makeup onto herself tastefully, using generous amounts of eye shadow and blush. She had also applied some spray-on tan, her skin was darker now that it had been earlier. She was wearing a halter top with a miniskirt that fell down to about mid thigh on her.

Priscilla, the negress was still wearing her usual headband, although she had applied a few orange highlights to her otherwise midnight dark hair. She was dressed in a low-cut tee shirt and wearing a pair of denim capris. She was obviously more conservative than Noel, but was still making an effort to appear attractive.

Irene, the redhead came into view last. Her wardrobe changes were much less striking than the other two. She had decided to wear a maroon beret on her head, covering her short-cut hair. Her clothes were rather simple: a tight fitting sleeveless top and an equally compressing pair of shorts.

For a moment, Gordon was caught up in a lusty fantasy, before he came to the conclusion that the girls were looking for other men. If they wanted to seduce him, they wouldn't need to make a special effort as they were around him all the time. Soon, the trio of amorous amazons caught up to him. "Come on," laughed Irene, offering her hand to him as they bounded closer to him. Gordon hesitated, wondering if this could be a trick. He had never done well with women, and suddenly, this trio of beautiful dames was inviting him to join in their fun put him off guard. He took Irene's hand and unashamedly skipped along with them to into the night. He decided that even if things turned out badly, the three of them would probably be too drunk to remember anything, or at least, they would blame their loathing of him on the booze.

They stopped outside the entrance to a bar, and suddenly, Priscilla stopped them. "Wait," she said. "Something's wrong?"

"What is it," inquired Irene.

"He doesn't have street clothes" sang Noel, and they suddenly dragged him off to a clothing store. Gordon thought that the gesture was kind, but unnecessary.

They spent at least half an hour going around and practically tossing racks full of clothes at him, until Gordon spoke up: "Thank you, but I'll take these and go into the changing rooms." He picked up a pile of darker colored clothes and went to the changing rooms. He tried on different clothes, until he found some that he liked. He decided to keep a black short sleeved shirt, a crimson long sleeved shirt, a pair of olive colored rain paints (they were comfortable, and nobody would care, or even know unless touched him), and a pair of khaki shorts. They spent about forty-five minutes replacing all the rejected clothes back on their racks. Then, they moved to check out. Brian insisted on using his own money to pay for the clothing. The girls protested, but he said that he'd pay for the first round of drinks if they paid for his clothes. He said that he didn't want anyone owing anybody else a debt. This reasoning got them to agree with him. The women each paid for a set fraction of his clothing costs, in cash, and quickly, he had his civilian clothes.

He went into a changing room and removed his armor before placing his rain pants and black shirt on himself. He got out of the changing room to a chorus of applause. "Now," said Priscilla, "our fun can begin. They gallivanted off to a nearby bar and entered. It was mostly empty, but that didn't matter to the girls. What mattered is that there were three single male patrons. The men looked at each other like their wildest dreams had been made reality. There were three gorgeous women standing in front of them, looking for a good time. The wild amazons sat down onto their barstools, closely trailed by Gordon. The all ordered drinks. Priscilla ordered a cosmopolitan. Noel ordered a lager. Irene ordered a margarita. Lastly, Gordon ordered a Scotch Whisky off the rocks. The bartender looked at Gordon skeptically, then Gordon fished out his Steel Gear medal, since he didn't have any read I.D. This worked because you had to be nineteen to join the army, and you didn't see actual combat until you were twenty. The drinking age was twenty, so this worked out conveniently. They each received their beverage and the girls began their flirtations with the men, who responded enthusiastically.

Gordon was slightly afraid of how this night was going to end: in a maternity ward. He however, trusted in his comrades to be responsible. They hadn't let him down yet, and indeed, had been chosen to carry a very heavy burden: the safety of humankind. As the night wore, on he gradually drank more. He wasn't aiming to get drunk. He was drinking out of politeness, and because he liked the taste. It wasn't every day he got to enliven his senses, not that he needed to very much.

Gradually, the seven of them entered into gradually increasing and varied states of drunkenness. The three guys had so far drunk the most. It was wondrous that they could even balance on their barstools. They would definitely be feeling that in the morning. Noel had taken eight lagers, and was definitely over the limit, although she was remarkably good at holding her alcohol. She was letting up, sipping on soda instead of liquor. She apparently still had enough self control to not make a total ass of herself. Then, by a reasonable margin, came Priscilla, who had only drained four cosmopolitans slowly over the night, avoiding an alcohol flood into her bloodstream. Then came Irene, who had drunken three margaritas, and was slightly inebriated, although still had a firm grip on reality. The most sober was Gordon. He hated the feeling of being even slightly drunk. Being cheery was one thing, but he disliked the uncoordinated feeling that excess alcohol gave him. He had never been seriously drunk, and had only consumed two whiskies over the course of the night. He was currently at the borderline between slightly uncoordinated and merry. He preferred to at maximum, only have enough alcohol so that he was more cheery than usual. People often told him that he needed to loosen up, and this was the only way he knew how to do it without interfering in other areas of his life that were of greater importance than having fun.

He looked up at the clock, and saw that the time was now 0300 hours. He didn't know if they would have to perform their duties in the morning, but wanted to get back to base anyways. He tapped Irene on the shoulder and said: "It's getting late, we should be going."

Irene responded, "Good idea." She tapped Priscilla on the shoulder and did the same to her as Gordon had to herself. Priscilla came along easily.

"Noel, it's time to go," said Gordon.

"I don't wanna go, I'm having sooooo much funn," slurred the woman. Gordon tried unsuccessfully for the next few minutes to convince the intoxicated female to comply with his requests. Frustrated, he snatched her wallet and told her that if she wanted it back, she'd half to get it back from him at their barracks. She hung her head and followed him, after saying goodbye to everyone in the bar.

She was quite drunk, and Gordon was surprised that she didn't fall over. They were at the top of a flight of steps, with Priscilla and Irene behind them, when he warned her to be careful. Suddenly, she kissed him, clamping her lips over his. Gordon couldn't do anything to resist. An electrical, fiery sensation was overcoming him. It was strangely pleasant. At last, Noel broke off the contact, and whispered at him in a carrying voice: "That's for being such a great guy."

Gordon was stunned. He had suddenly been kissed at random by a woman he had only known for a few days. She slunk off to the end of the line for reasons only she knew. Gordon didn't know quite what to do. This was a completely new situation to him. He had never been in a romantic relationship with a female, or for that matter, in any kind of intimate contact like that before. The rest of the walk back passed in a confused daze. Gordon divested himself into his underclothes and reclined onto his back, waiting for sleep. Noel clumsily got into her bunk and immediately fell asleep. Priscilla did roughly the same thing. Gordon couldn't blame her, after all, they had been awake for twenty-two hours. With no one to turn off the lights, Gordon went to do it himself. He was about to flip the switch when Irene asked him: "Is something troubling you?"

He turned and replied automatically: "no.".

"Are you sure," she said. "You can tell me."

"Alright, it's because Noel kissed me."

"Why is that bothering you? Don't you realize that a kiss is only a kiss?"

"I know, it's just, it's to do with my secret."

"Are you willing to talk about it? I can only help me if you trust me. I won't hurt you."

"Okay, I'll let you know, but you can only tell this to people that I approve of."

"What is it?"

"That thing with Noel, that was my first kiss, and it was really unexpected."

"You mean you wanted it to happen a certain way?"

"Yes and no."

"Yes and no?" repeated Irene. She was puzzled.

"I mean that I wanted to have a first kiss, but not completely at random. I've never had anyone to really get close to, to be able to open my heart to." Gordon said this, feeling like a gigantic weight was being lifted off of his heart.

"Have you had bad luck with women?" asked Irene.

"What I really mean, is that I'm young." said Gordon, scared almost to the point of running away from Irene.

"You can't be that young." laughed Irene. "You can't possibly be any younger than twenty."

"But I am," said Gordon. "That's my secret."

Irene asked gently: "How old are you, really?"

Gordon almost choked. He knew he would have to let the truth out at some point, but its implications would have unfathomable effects on his relationship with his squad, and everyone else. Bracing himself, he said, "I'm sixteen."

Irene gasped. She had only been expecting maybe eighteen or nineteen years old at the lowest. But sixteen, that just seemed abominable. It was like looking at a kitten rip a hamster to shreds. "You're joking," she said, not believing her own words.

"I'm not," assured Gordon grimly. "The only reason why you don't think I'm sixteen is because I'm in armor all the time, so I look bigger, and because I voice act to sound older."

"But you said you joined the army about two years ago. That means that you became a soldier at fourteen. But why and how did you? Why did you subject yourself to such suffering at such a young age? And how did command let this all happen to you?" Irene was practically sobbing now. She was torn between anger at being deceived, and at the injustice of using a boy to fight in war. The second emotion that was vying for her attention was sadness, for this man, no, boy who stood before her now. This boy who had fought in battle, killed in front of her, lived with her and the others, endured hardship beyond his years. How had he ended up like this?

"Let me explain," he began gently. "I became a soldier because I had no other choice. My school and neighborhood were destroyed in a locust attack when I was fourteen. I then had three options. I could join a band of stranded. I could join a street gang, or, I could join the army. All of my options contained violence. I'm bad at social interaction, so I immediately discarded becoming a gangster. I decided against becoming a stranded, since if I became one, I'd be fighting locust, which would also happen in the army. I figured that I would have a better chance of survival in the army, fighting with the best, and with the best equipment. I was somewhat wrong. I did not have the best of much until I met you, Noel, and Priscilla. This has been my best assignment ever.

"But, I don't see how they let a kid into the army." She had stopped crying, but she still had an expression of great sorrow.

"They let me into the army due to a shortage of recruits." They were desperate enough to take anyone. Any person who could kill locusts and handle a gun was accepted. All I had to do was act the part and fake my voice. Then, I was accepted. I got the best training on Sera, as well as a good medical plan, and a salary, and a guaranteed source of meals. All I had to do was obey orders and kill locusts. And it has worked well for these past two years. And that's pretty much all there is to my story. Don't pity me, Irene. You're a good woman, and you have a lot of heart. You're going to make some lucky man really happy someday. I've made peace with my fate and my past. There's no real hope for me. Eventually, I'm going to die, and the gambit will end. I have no future. You have one. You're not going to have to spend your life as a career soldier. You have an education. You can get a good job, I can't. You have a charming personality, I don't. You have friends, I don't."

At this point, she cut him off. "You're surrounded by friends here. You've got Priscilla, you've got Noel, and you've got me. And you get to be with us all the time. I'm sorry to say this, but you're right about the education. You do have a future. This war won't go on forever. It'll end. You can go back to school then, finish your education, and live your life. Earn a good, honest living, and help people.

"Irene," he said. "May I sing you a song. I think it'll help you understand me and my situation better. I'm not exactly a good singer, but would you mind if I sang it anyways?"

"By all means, do."

Gordon sang:

"I never said I'd lie and and wait forever  
If I died we'd be together  
I can't always just forget her  
But she could try

At the end of the world or the last thing I see  
You are never coming home  
Never coming home  
Could I?  
Should I?  
And all the things that you never ever told me  
And all the smiles that are ever ever

Ever  
Get the feeling that you're never  
All alone and I remember now  
At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies  
She dies

At the end of the world  
Or the last thing I see  
You are never coming home  
Never coming home  
Could I?  
Should I?  
And all the things that you never ever told me  
And all the smiles that are ever gonna hold me

Never coming home  
Never coming home  
Could I?  
Should I?  
And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me  
For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

If I fall  
If I fall  
(Down)

At the end of the world  
Or the last thing I see  
You are never coming home  
Never coming home  
never coming home  
Never coming home  
And all the things that you never ever told me  
And all the smiles that are ever gonna hold me  
Never coming home  
Never coming home  
Could I?  
Should I?  
And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me  
For all the ghosts that are never gonna"

When Gordon finished singing, Irene was in tears again. The song was more painful for her than he had anticipated. "I'm sorry," he said, "That I've upset you."

"Wait," she said. "I'm not upset. I'm sorry for your pain. I wish I could help you."

"You have," he smiled. "You're hearing me out." He gave her a genuine smile, not one of the usual grimaces or leers that he typical gave.

She took his hand into hers and said: "If you ever need someone to help you with a problem that you can't beat by yourself, let me know." He gave her a nod, then a quick squeeze before going off to bed. Revile played the moment he laid down. He swore under his breath, but to his surprise, no one else rose, except for Priscilla. She said: "We have the day off, go back to sleep."

Gordon didn't need any prompting. Feeling better than he had for a long time, he shut his eyes and smiled happily as the sweet oblivion of dreams overtook him.

Author's notes

. The song that Gordon Signs to Irene is called: Ghost of You, by the band: My Chemical Romance.


	7. Expanded Arsenal

Phalanx Seven: Expanded Arsenal

Summary: Iota Squad's day off.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gears Of War, and I don't have anything worth taking, so don't sue me! I own the Original Characters: Gordon, Mathew, Amanda, Noel, Irene, and Priscilla. Other than that, I'm just renting.

When Gordon awoke, it was alright light. He rubbed his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the brightness. He awoke alone, the women had already left he barracks. Scenes like from a vague dream flashed across his mind: A kiss, a bar, Irene, and a song. He then remembered the previous night. He regretted informing Irene about his real age. Doubt washed over him. Then, he remembered that Irene was his friend; she wouldn't betray him. He slipped into his armor, and stepped outside, without carrying a weapon, save for his sword. He never went anywhere without it.

"So, you're finally awake," came a familiar voice. He looked to his right and saw Priscilla. She was holding a couple pieces of toast on a napkin. She handed then to him and said: "we're not really doing anything today. Just be back here at 1800 hours."

"Thanks for the food." he said. Gordon took a bite. The toast was typical of the fare in the army; bland, but filling. He was soon full, and found that Priscilla had already left.

He set about looking to keep himself busy. He was thinking about his last battle, in particular about how he had been so limited against the wretches. His revolver was powerful, although slow. He realized that for pitched engagements, he would need more firepower; something that could strike at range and guarantee a kill, not just incapacitate Gordon recalled hearing something about these things called '"Theron Guards" while he was with Delta. They used these weapons called "Torque Bows," that fired explosive arrows like sniper rifles. The arrows would stick into whatever they struck, and explode, killing, or at least maiming whatever they impacted.

"I should get myself one of those," muttered Gordon. He wondered if there was any place that command made the weapons available, or even if the ammunition would be distributed to gears. He contacted command. "Anya, this is Gordon."

"Hello, Gordon." said Anya. "You have the day off. What are you calling for?"

"I was wondering where I could get some weapons."

"What kind of weapons are you looking for?"

Gordon answered: "Something called a Torque Bow."

Anya said: "Let me check. I saw something about them somewhere. That place is closed. Aha, you get can a Torque Bow at Pomeroy Depot. All you need is to prove who you are and they'll let you have the weapon. Just one thing: we're short on arrows, so use blanks when not in combat."

"Thanks Anya," said Gordon. "You've just made my day." The boy deactivated his radio and began walking back into the city. He had to find Pomeroy Depot. That wouldn't be hard, since it was close to the hospital where that attack had been recently. After wandering about the city for about thirty minutes, he found his destination.

The depot itself was a warehouse type structure. This was where the weapons from Lamertza went after they were tested and packaged, until they were issued to soldiers. The reduction in the score of arms distribution due to the locust onslaught on emergence day made the system elegant and efficient. Gordon entered into the depot. Inside, it looked just like a warehouse, only it was stocked full of guns in enough numbers to make the defense of Lamertza seem pointless due to the massive stockpiles of weapons here. Gordon didn't see any Torque Bows, and he knew that he'd have to get any transactions cleared with a supply officer. He looked around for someone who looked like they were in charge. Gordon found him, in a kiosk by the loading dock.

"Show me some I.D. and tell me what you want." stated the man flatly. He was a stalwart paragon of order. This man obviously would need everything in order, and tolerate no funny business. Without argueing, Gordon took out his Steel Gear medal and responded.

"Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim, Iota Squad, sir. I request a Torque Bow with a full bevy of arrows." Gordon said this in a very matter of fact voice, hoping that this would help.

"We've only got a few of them, but I'll let you take one. The computer here says that your squad has special allowance to access arms. Otherwise, you'd need an invitation from Colonel Hoffman himself. Jim!" hollered the Petty Officer.

"Yes sir!" snapped Jim, who came running out from behind a row of captured hammerbusts.

"Get this man a Torque Bow, and thirty arrows on the double." ordered the Petty Officer.

"Yes sir."

Some minutes passed in awkward silence, and in a bid to pass the time, Gordon asked the Petty Officer: "Sir, may I know your name?"

"My name," said the man, "is Earl. I run this depot like clockwork. I make sure things get done on time and done right. Without me, you gears wouldn't last a day."

At that moment, Jim returned with the bow and a compliment of arrows.

"Thank you," said Gordon. Jim gave him a brief salute and went off again.

"Just one more thing," said Earl. "That Torque Bow of yours, the arrows are hard to come by, so go buy yourself some sport arrows from an archery shop if you want to practice. And get yourself a quiver. And, only use that bow of yours sparingly. It'll burn through your ammunition, no matter how much you got."

"Thanks," said Gordon, and he walked out carrying his bow an arrows, feeling pretty eager to get some blanks, a quiver, and some targets. He found them four blocks down in a sporting goods shop. He grabbed thirty aluminum arrows and a matching silver quiver. He then bought a block leather quiver for the live arrows so that he didn't accidentally use the wrong ones by mistake. He paid only one-hundred forty dollars for the whole set. That was much less than he thought that it would be worth. He walked back to base and went towards the firing range

Gordon examined his weapon as he went. The weapon seemed to incorporate just about every single technological advance made in weaponry. It was like the bastard child of just about every weapons ever made. It had a muzzle loading front like a musket, beams like a bow, blades like a sword, a trigger like a gun, tension cords like a mangonel, and a barrel like a crossbow. It was definitely a weird weapon, but if its combat effectiveness was just one tenth of its weirdness, it would be one hell of a locust widow maker.

Gordon reached the firing range and glanced at the clock. The display read 1540. He had apparently missed lunch and breakfast in his sleep. But, now, he could just learn the unique facets of his new weapon. He held the bow up to his shoulder like a rifle. It had a muzzle heavy balance, but was short and easy to maneuver. There was an interruption in the upper bow arm where his eyes were, so that he could aim easily. He set up a target downrange and inserted the first arrow.

He squeezed the trigger. A sound like cable tightening emanated from the weapon, then a mechanical huffing sound, like a steam engine with the throttle being opened gently began. Gordon saw that there was a light shining from the front of the weapon. That and the sounds would prevent it from being used as a sneak attack weapon, not that it would matter in a pitched battle. He released the trigger, and the weapon gave a kick. He fed a sport arrow into the muzzle and held down the trigger. The weapon whined and strained like earlier, its protests increasing the longer he held down the trigger, until suddenly, it gave a kick and the arrow was embedded six inches deep into the receiving block of ballistics gelatin. Not bad for an arrow intended for straw and paper targets. Perhaps even the "blanks" could be used in battle.

Gordon fitted another arrow into the weapon. He pulled this trigger. This time, instead of holding it down, he let it go after a second. The arrow came out, but only flew a brief distance before clattering to the ground. Apparently, this weapon required timing. After about three hours, he had achieved competence, and left the range. He went to the canteen. There, Gordon found a newspaper, a pinball machine, and Noel drinking a coffee. He grabbed a newspaper and began reading. The headlines read: "Operation Hollow Storm yields bittersweet results." According to the article, Illima City had been sunk the previous night during operation Hollow Storm, which began with the assault on Landown. Gordon smirked. He had expected there to be at least one reference to the actions of his squad, or at least to the corpser attack, but there were none. Delta Squad had been winning a lot of glory. Marcus himself alone had been credited with at least forty kills the previous night. Gordon flipped the page. The headline there read: "City Sinker Sunk!" The text revealed that the locust had been sinking cities with a giant worm. It had supposedly been aroused from its slumber by the lightmass bombing.

No blame was even alluded to be pointed at the COG. The COG censored the newspapers, and kept tight reins over the media. Even the internet was restricted. They weren't worried about minors watching porn like previous governments had been. They were more worried about revolutionary groups, particularly those which could indoctrinate the minds of their gears. The COG was a brutal government. Although its leader was called the chairman, he was more like a dictator. It was an iron fist in a silken glove. Gordon didn't like the COG tactics for silencing dissent, but it had to be done. In times where humanity wasn't fighting for its very survival as a species, disharmonious voices could be allowed, tolerated, and to some extent, even welcomed. Now, in such grim times, every bit counted. Either humanity worked together as a team, or they would all die as a team. Dissent couldn't be tolerated because it was much too dangerous. The human population was below one billion at the present moment. They couldn't afford to lose men through civil war and riots. Most women, unless infertile, or had born children already were being used to breed in the hopes of producing sons for the army. Most females that joined the COG were used as directrices, or as nurses.

Some ended up as prostitutes. This was a double boon for the COG, and it was even encouraged indirectly, for public condoning of prostitution would result in a real uprising. Prostitutes raised morale among gears, and kept off duty testosterone-filled gears occupied. That kept problems low, and if the woman got pregnant, the child would be another potential candidate for COG recruiters to snag later on. Prostitution was perfectly legal on Sera, although pimping was not.

Continuing his reading of the article, he saw a picture of the "riftworm." The thing was unbelievable in size. It was at least a few miles long, and several hundred feet high. The report indicated that the creature died due to blood loss some time the previous night. "Hey, Noel," he called. The silverette looked at him.

"What?" she inquired.

"Get a load of this." He said, tossing the newspaper, with the riftworm article on top at her. She caught it and began reading. Her eyes expanded with surprise and a bit of horror as she read about the massive bulk of the creature. Apparently, she was afraid of worms.

"I can't believe it," she said awestruck. "Something that big, living under us for all this time. I just don't get it. The COG, someone, should have found it. I don't know how something that huge could have been lurking under our feet."

"Really makes you wonder." added Gordon Cryptically.

"Wonder what, Gordon?" asked Noel.

"Nothing, sargess, I'm just rambling."

"Oh, then tell me this: you know how we went drinking last night?"

"Yeah."

"I had a little too much to drink, and things got a little hazy. I remember kissing some guy that looked kina like you, only he didn't wear armor, and wasn't armed. Was that you?"

"Yes," said Gordon as gently as possible. "You kissed me."

"Please forgive me," pleaded Noel. "I'm sorry."

"You were drunk, and as I believe: In vino veritas."

"In vino veritas?" asked the girl. She didn't know the language in which he spoke.

"In vino veritas means, in latin: I wine there is truth."

Noel blushed. "Please, forgive me. I shouldn't of done that. I had had too much to drink. I'll never do it again. I can't help but be fond of you, but I only thought that I liked you as a friend. It was the booze talking."

While Noel was stammering and begging for his mercy, Gordon was trying to get her to stop so that he could finish, but she nothing could stop her, not even a thousand brumaks. At last, she stopped her prostrations. "Noel," he said. "I forgive you. Just about everyone does something like that at least once in their life. I haven't, but then again, I have no interest in the club scene. I won't get you in trouble. You're a hell of a fine soldier, and a damn true friend. Although you gave me my first kiss quite unexpectedly, I appreciate your other virtues. The four of us, and everyone else in the COG and civilian populations is humans. None among us is perfect. Anyone who claims to be, is lying, or has a serious personality disorder."

"Thank you," heaved Noel. She rushed up to embrace Gordon, but held back. He didn't mind the friendly contact and gave her an amicable hug. An awkward silence ensued afterwards.

After several minutes of no one saying anything, Noel spoke up: "Was that truly your first kiss?"

"It was my first. I am not lying to you." stated Gordon. He was still mildly shocked that he had even survived his first sixteen years, let alone gotten his first kiss.

"It wasn't my place to take it." said the woman. "You should have been allowed to chose your first kiss. Although I sound mushier than I really mean, your first kiss, well, it's significant, you never forget it. I'm sorry that I took it from you."

"Noel," repeated Gordon. "For the last time, you don't have to apologize. The experience was unexpected and disturbing, although enjoyable. I don't have any regrets about it, although I kind of wish that you had asked me first. At least it was with someone I trust rather than a complete stranger."

"You don't mind, really?" wondered Noel.

Gordon decided that this back and forth was getting pointless, so he decided to end it by cutting her an ultimatum. He proposed: "Noel, how about this: We count that incident as not really happening; it's just an irrelevant technicality. It's like when the doctor sees you naked; it doesn't count that a doctor saw you naked. Then, I can count my next kiss as my first, and we can get over this."

Noel hesitated for a moment, and said: "Deal." They shook hands and nodded.

Looking at the clock, which now read: 1776, Gordon remembered that it would soon be supper time. "Just so you know, it's going to be time for dinner in about ten minutes."

"Thanks," came Noel's reply. Having said that, Gordon went for a walk outside. Gordon enjoyed the refreshing cool of the evening. The sensation of a nice wind going around his body helped make him feel any cleaner than any shower ever did. There was something primal and good about this. It was so natural, compared to the horrors that he routinely battled and confronted. For a brief instant, he wanted to run away and live on the wind's breath. But, he knew that moments such as these were but a moment's fantasy. Against the laws of physics and of man, he could not run away on the wind. It would remain in Gordon's imagination, like so many other forbidden things. He thought of his forbidden desires. He envisioned thighs, peace, protest, revolutions, and freedom. All the things which were denied to him, he imagined. He kept up this fantasy life of his. It gave him strength for the harrowing task of waging war against the locust. Even if he could never act out any of his fantasies, at least he could go to his thoughts to reflect and seek shelter from the cruelty of reality.

It wasn't the pain of emotion that he fled from, but the irrationality of the world he lived in. There was no logical coherence to the way things were being done. Command seemed to make stupid decisions, and on the battlefield, men died at random. Squad assignments seemed to be completely random. The only thing that seemed to constantly prove right was that things always got worse. He was jerked from his sweet melancholy by the bugle sounding for the final meal of the day. With a sigh masked by a groan, he got up.

Dinner that night was spaghetti and meatballs. The mess was just as deserted today as it was the previous day. For the first time since he had woken up, he saw Irene. She pleasantly greeted him. "Hello," she chirped. She was definitely one for tranquility after the hectic events of the previous day and the even stranger occurrences of the last night.

"Hi," said Gordon. "Enjoyed your day off?"

"A lot; I've been handing out with some friends. They're all dying to meet you guys." For the next five minutes, Irene summed up the last twelve hours of her life. She wasn't one for massive amounts of details, but she added more clarity when needed. "And that's how I enjoyed my day off," she concluded. "What have you been doing yourself?"

"Not too much," said Gordon with a devilish grin on his face, except getting aquainted with this." He pulled out his Torque Bow. This drew gasps and mixed reactions from around the table. Priscilla looked at it with a mixture of curiosity and loathing. Irene looked at it with a where-did-you-get-that-it's-so-fantastic-look. Thirdly, Noel looked a bit graver. She looked at it wondering if or if not it was permitted by the proper authority. Priscilla then describer her day as being extremely productive, and told them about the modification she had made to her lancer as well as the new accuracy boost it gave her. She also said that they would be going into a war game tomorrow against Mu Squad.

Then Noel described her day. She told her comrades about how she had taken enough time for a day of spa treatments and massages. She said that she had briefly chatted in the canteen with Gordon, but didn't cover the specifics. Then, dinner ended and they high tailed it back to their barracks. They did some more lighthearted chatting, with Gordon joining in some. He wasn't socially confident, especially when surrounded by beautiful women. It wasn't only a teenager thing, but also a male thing. Any male wearing only a cotton tee shirt and shorts would feel intimidated being surrounded by three highly attractive military women who were all only wearing light tee shirts and shorts, with the exception of Priscilla, who was wearing a nightie.

The lights out signal played and as was already traditional for Iota Squad, Sergeant Noel switched off the lights and slipped into bed. There was a round of good nights and a reminder that tomorrow would mean more training from Priscilla. Finally, they all fell silent and Gordon fell asleep, beginning to finally trust his companions.

Author's notes:

. At the end, I gave emphasis to the physical beauty of the women. I am not going to have an explicit scene in this story. Maybe a bit of accidental contact, or a big of feeling around in the later chapters, but nothing randy will happen.

. I decided to add the newspaper article to give perspective to the world. I will be writing some more action soon, so be ready for it.

. Don't bitch about me making this story overly sexual. Remember, I'm giving voice to the thoughts of a teenage boy here. I included the part about the thighs in his imagination as a tasteful way of adding more of an anthropomorphic image into my characters.

. I'm not hung up on the kiss between Gordon and Noel. I've wrapped that matter up for now.

. I'm also going to keep Gordon's age secret for now. I'm saving it's unveiling to the other two women of Iota Squad for a later chapter.

. I can't decided if I want carmine to live or die in this story. Tell me your opinion on the matter. I was thinking of possibly pairing him with Priscilla. That would be an interesting match.

. I don't have any pairing for Noel yet, but rest assured, by the epilogue story, she will be taken care of.


	8. Bloody Tower

Phalanx Eight: Bloody Tower

Summary: Jacinto Sinks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gears Of War, and I don't have anything worth taking, so don't sue me! I own the Original Characters: Gordon, Noel, Irene, and Priscilla. Other than that, I'm just renting.

The bugle went off at dawn as usual and Gordon jolted awake. He hurried into his armor and went outside for roll call. He was relaxed and collected from his day off. It just wasn't he who was feeling better, all his companions were more relaxed and on the whole, happier.

Priscilla did her usual gig of beginning the roll call, then having her subordinates recite their names. "Begin roll call from left to right, and begin!"

"Gordon Iago Kim, Ma'am!"

"Zoey Hanna Irene, Ma'am!"

"Bianca Nicole Rider, Ma'am!"

"Good," said Priscilla. "Today, we will take breakfast. Then we will report to Drill Course One at 0600 hours and begin the war game at 0630 hours. We will not be stopping for lunch today. The focus of the exercise will be to test your endurance in an eight hour combat simulation. There will be stress and accuracy tests before and after the exercise. Then, we will be in class from 1500 hours to 1800 hours. The topic will be on how to combat different types of locust regular infantry. At 1800 hours, we will report to the mess hall for supper. At 1835, you will report back here for debriefing. Am I understood?"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" recited everyone in unison. Priscilla had become more confident in her power. She no longer acted as though she was fearing a revolution. Combat changed squads drastically; you could never see your teammates in the same light again after counting on them for your very survival. Some squads changed for the better, some for the worse, but all changed. You could learn more about the person next to you in ten minutes of frantic struggle than in ten years of polite conversation. Words could be used in any number of ways or means, while your instinctive reactions in the face of imminent death could not be disguised. No matter how people were trained or conditioned, no one had the exact same style. People timed their breaths differently while sniping at the same locusts. People had a different rhythm for reloading in battle. Others brawled recklessly like berserkers, while other in the same front lines popped shots at the most vulnerable. Combat proved that no one was the same. In a way, it defied the army. The army desired to break men down and make them exactly uniform to each other. The way they strove and fought on the field of battle in different ways proved them wrong. Men and women could be molded to fight as a cohesive team, but no one could be made to function like another.

And so Iota Squad went to breakfast, with Gordon bringing up the rear as usual. He was pondering how the four of them had changed, at least in their perception of each other and of themselves. He began with Priscilla. When he first met her in the control building, she seemed to be a by-the-book officer like his older brother, Minh Young Kim. However, the next morning proved him wrong. Instead of doing a regulation style roll call, she had them name themselves. In battle, she was merciless and ruthless. She also didn't stand for personal insult, as made obvious by her assault of Mathew. Of all his officers, he viewed her as possibly one of the most competent and capable. People like her were in high demand and in short supply.

Noel was a different matter. At first, he thought that she was more of a regular "girl-girl." She was more stereotypically feminine than Priscilla or Irene. She however, proved herself to be more than a pretty face and flair. She had proven herself in combat as an alert and astute asset. She held herself to authority to a degree that Gordon personally abhorred. She was fairly traditional and professional, although she liked to indulge her passions, as he learned late one night after she had drunk too many alcoholic beverages.

Finally, there was Irene. His first impressions of her were highly at odds with her true nature. Her appearance, with short red hair, was quite intimidating and unfeminine. Her true nature, however, was much warmer. She was true friend, and would take his secrets to the grave. She was the only one who would even bother to listen to his problems. He felt rather close to her as he had to no one else. In battle, she was a zealous fighter, as if every kill had a priceless personal significance to her. She was also a relatively humane killer too. She preferred to quickly dispatch the locusts, rather than to drag out their deaths or execute them. Her fighting style was highly emotional and passionate, as Gordon's was technical and efficient. They were quite different, although, the two of them functioned like two halves of the same coin. Gordon rose from his reflections to the smell of maple syrup. Breakfast that morning was pancakes, hot off the griddle. Due to decreased demand, the chefs could put more emphasis on quality than quantity.

The pancakes Gordon was eating tasted more like, well, pancakes than the ones he had eaten three weeks ago. Those tasted horribly like batter. Gordon applied a drizzle onto his current pancake. The golden fluid ran around it, like water in slow motion. He cut it with his knife and ate it. The cooks had really outdone themselves this time. This was the first good food he remembered eating on base since months ago, and that was when he had left the hospital. Even army food made hospital food taste bad. Being formulated to promote good health and immune system strength probably explained for the infamous taste of hospital food. Gordon had always understood tasty and healthy to be mutually exclusive terms. The food here was no exception. It was definitely still definitely unhealthy, but then again, most people who ate this food would die in battle before they turned thirty. They ate without much talking; they seemed to be communicating by a form of telepathy.

The meal ended and they exited the mess hall, with fuller stomachs and fulfilled tongues. The four of them returned to their barracks and equipped their weapons. Gordon went in heavy. He was carrying his new weapon, and had differentiated between the live and blank shafts by adding a band of grip tape just above the fletching. Arrows with the tape were intended for combat. The unmodified arrows were for practice. He had taken the decision to combine the two into a single quiver, as he might have to use either set of arrows at any time, and seeing the power of the Torque Bow, he doubted that the lack of explosives would prove to be of much detriment against drones. Boomers would be another story, but his companions were more than capable of helping him, just as he was obliged to help them.

They were on their way to their session with Rho Squad, when Anya came over the radio. She sounded frantic, but attempting to remain clear. "Priscilla, get your squad and report to command pronto!" she worded quickly, and tensely. "There's about to be a massive locust attack on Jacinto, and we need Iota to guard Chairman Prescot and Colonel Hoffman. Hurry, the first enemy reavers will be here in minutes!"

Priscilla looked annoyed that their scheduled activity had been canceled, but she took charge of the situation. "Iota, there's about to be a massive locust attack on Jacinto and the enemy is only minutes away. We've got to get to command to protect the chairman and Hoffman. Let's move soldiers! Quadruple time it, Go go go!" They all ran off towards command as fast as they reasonably could. Priscilla was urgent, but didn't want to waste her squad's energy. She turned around and saw the first enemy reavers coming in the distance. "Come on!" she yelled. "Last one there buys drinks for everyone in the bar!" This spurred on her charges, who didn't want to lose all their hard earned money. Within only five minutes, they were in the COG Army Headquarters, saluting Hoffman and Prescot.

At that very moment, the first reavers hit the city with their rockets, starting fires and killing the exposed civilians. A woman with bags full of bread and cereals fell dead, her legs torn away. A boy in a hospital with a broken wrist, crushed under a falling support beam. The locust weren't just attacking. They were going in for the kill. All their previous attacks had really been reconnaissance missions, finding out where the human essentials were. Not wasting time to kill civilians, they rushed at Pomeroy Depot, at Lamertza Arms Production Facility, at the general and military hospitals. They struck at power plants and fuel refineries and bridges and communications towers and water purification plants and at COG HQ. Everything that would cause the humans serious strategic harm was targeted. Simultaneously, dozens of emergence holes opened at once. Cars fell into the cavities. A great sinkhole opened, by a construction site. Brumaks issued forth, accompanied by legions of drones, therons, boomers, and grenadiers. It was the ragnarok of Sera, and no one or no thing was going to miss it.

To the locusts, victory seemed nigh. Mobs of them charged blithely into machine gun fire. This was the day that they would overcome the lambent. The surface, their destiny awaited them, just on the other side of the great doors of COG Command, awaited Hoffman and Prescot, just two meddlesome humans. Kill them, and it would be over. Even if they didn't, it wouldn't matter. At that very moment, they were preparing to sink the entire city, just as they emerged from their subterranean catacombs, eager for blood. The humans would be wiped from existence within hours, and the lambent, a bad memory. With a dreadful and blood glee, the masses of locust infantry charged forwards, killing without thought or hesitation.

In the highest room, in the tallest tower, Iota Squad set up defensive Positions. At the only door, Priscilla and Gordon crouched behind their shields, ready to shoot should the locust gain access. To the sides of the doorway, Noel and Irene crouched behind theirs, snubs in hand. Their mission was clear: protect the two most important men on Sera, or die in the attempt. The sounds of distant battle came closer. Outside the windows, thick smoke and flames were rising from ruined structures, which, not even five minutes earlier, had been gleaming structures, the pride of humanity's builders.

King Ravens were running hectically, evacuating whatever civilians could reach them. Most couldn't, they had been ripped from existence in the sudden locust attack. Some of them didn't even have time to blink before they and their entire family was disintegrated by a grenadier's bomb. Up outside of command, Tex was taking a kindergarten class out of the city, when suddenly, a rocket tore through the helicopter. They were all dead before the vehicle crashed into the side of the tower. Anya bent over a map of the battle, looking grim. Everyone knew what she was thinking, for it was all in their minds two: the last day had come. Prescot looked unusually worried. His grand, inspiring demeanor now was just a shadow of his former self. Hoffman was scratching his head, not knowing what to do as the sound of his men dying came in from the radio. Bloody coughs, gunfire, curb stomps, and chainsaws all came through the receiver, then, the channel never lit up again.

Priscilla couldn't tolerate such inaction. She knew that something had to be done. The men in the field needed direction, they needed a leader, no matter who he or she was. The battle was not all lost. Before a tide decreased, it had to peak. The peak was now. She decided it was time to turn the tide back for humanity. She ran over to the radio and addressed into it in her most commanding, emboldening voice: "Gears of the COG, the locust have come to Jacinto, yet you run and die! Are you all castrated, useless pigs and brats? You are the best fucking soldiers humanity has. The locust are now on your home turf! The enemy is here, in the open. This the fight you've been waiting for, dreaming of! Make them pay for what they've done to humanity! Bust their balls! Shove your boots up their asses! Shove 'em so far up that their queen gets hemorrhoids! Gears, now all seems lost, but you have not even begun to fight. In the name of humanity, for everyone on this planet, give 'em hell!"

Soldiers cheered over their radios. Gears retaliated against the locust agressors with furious might. Reavers exploded from the simultaneous impact of twelve simultaneous gnasher blasts. The Bloodmounts were turned into bloody heaps as they ran at machine gunners. Kantus silenced by construction crews armed with wrenches, jackhammers, and sledge hammers. The bloodiest brawl in history ensued. Humanity fought back. Stranded cheered on and fought alongside their COG brethren. Children hurled bricks. Many a drone fell under the might of falling masonry. Cooks wielding knives served up death. Martial artists put the beat back in beat down. Street gangs turned their guns from each other to the locusts. Trainers set their hounds upon wretches. Youths chucked tickers back onto their masters.

Both sides fought furiously, not wanting to give way first. The battle had not even been waging for ten minutes when Delta Squad came in over the radio. They were going on about needing to sink Jacinto. An order went out to prepare a lightmass bomb, and to evacuate all available gears. Shortly thereafter, Delta stormed into HQ. Marcus, Dom, Cole, Baird, and Carmine all came streaming in. They made a plan and Hoffman went with them. He ordered Iota to leave jacinto. The locust would not reach Prescot in time to do anything. Without resistance, everyone leapt to their tasks. They charged out of the control room towards the ultimate showdown between locust and humanity.

In the hotzone, everyone fought viciously. No mercy. Gordon fired his bow into an endless stream of drones. They crumpled dead, with missing heads due to Carmine's rifle, or with blud spurting around shafts from Gordon's bow. Priscilla emptied out magazine after magazine of sub machine gun ammo at the enemy, not holding anything back. Irene fought like a woman possessed. They met waves of locust, and ploughed right through them. Prescot himself even killed a few. He was a crack shot with his personalized pistol.

Maulers advanced, running forwards into the group. They all fell to the ground dead from not shielding themselves, or their flails uselessly floundered against the indomitable strength of the phalanx. Bloodmounts were butchered by Gordon's sword. A flash and a swish was all they knew before they fell, looking like grenadier's back. Carmine was about to be nipped by a bloodmount, when Gordon stabbed the fell beast in the neck with his wakizashi. He then moved the embedded blade in the creature's neck like a man pulling a lever. The animal's neck split open, killing it for good. At long last, they reached the helipads. There were two helicopters remaining. Marcus shouted: "Carmine, go with them!" The sergeant motioned at the women.

"But Sarge-"

"Not now! You're a good fighter, and you want revenge for your brother, but you've gotta go with them."

Carmine hesitated for a moment. "Yes sir!" he roared back at Marcus and leapt onto the King Raven. "C'mon guys, let's do this!" he yelled. At that very moment, he took a burst of bullets. Then, a sniper killed the pilot; they were stuck! Carmine tried to get up, but he couldn't. Irene, overcome by rage charged out of the aircraft before anyone could stop her. Even for her zealous self, she fought with abandon. She bashed the offending kantus in the leg, making it shriek back a terrible cry. The cry would have normally bowled over most people, but she was ready. She ducked behind her shield while it did this, then unloaded her final twelve rounds into its face. The head exploded an she dropped her snub, not needing it anymore. The redhead picked up its weapon and ran for the chopper. Another pilot came out, a commercial one. He had no KR experience, but wanted to help. They accepted his offer without hesitation or delay.

The man spent a few nerve wracking minutes figuring out the controls before hollering: "Get ready people, here we go!" They had no gunner, as that man had gone with Cole and Baird to the other chopper. The others were getting a lightmass bomb ready to sink Jacinto. Gordon and Irene were sitting next to each other, holding hands. They did this instinctively, seeking out friendly contact. Noel and Priscilla were on the other side of the aircraft, holding a wounded Benjamin Carmine between them. Marcus saw him take the bullet, but didn't have time to do anything. He and Dom continued the operation, their minds dead set on victory.

They lifted off the ground. Carmine groaned in pain. Priscilla eased his discomfort, giving him a small dose of morphine and prepared for him to go into shock. Their pilot wasted no time in getting them out of there as quickly as possible, until they joined the main flotilla of helicopters that had escaped from the doomed city. For a long time, nothing happened, then a huge explosion, too bright too observe, the, like a nightmare, Jacinto sank. The city fell down into the earth, seawater covering it. The scene was indescribable. Everyone watched, Carmine stopped groaning, Irene and Gordon clutched each other, instinctive fear gripping them despite their evolved minds. Priscilla held Carmine well around the middle. Noel simply stared, slack-jawed about what was happening. They saw a single helicopter flying from the ruin. On it was Marcus and Dom.

The heroes' chopper aligned with the one carrying Baird and Cole. Marcus looked disheartened about something, and Dom consoled him. Then, Anya appeared from behind Cole. Marcus looked visibly heartened, and Anya put her hand over her heart in an obvious gesture of relief. Carmine's pain began to abate as Priscilla's morphine took hold of him and he fell asleep. Noel tied him to the hand railing and laid him down on the floor. Everyone was completely exhausted, but happy.

They happily bantered with Delta as they flew onwards, their pilots joining in. They were now over a forested area. Suddenly, disaster struck. At sundown, nemacysts came in, killing Iota's pilot and taking out the rear rotor. "We're going down!" yelled Irene over the radio. The attack wasn't over. More nemacysts were attacking. Then, a soldier spotted the cause: three seeders. Immediately, a squadron of ravens killed them, but the damage was done. A raven was down, and they couldn't save the occupants.

On the ground, Gordon awoke with a pained groan. Carmine was still alive, somehow. He had been jarred awake when the first nemacyst punctured their airframe, and cracked a rib when they crashed. Gordon was sore and ruffled, but otherwise fine, likewise for Irene. Noel was sporting a pair of sprained ankles, and Priscilla had a broken leg. Gordon immediately called out: "Is everyone okay? Noel, Irene, Carmine, Priscilla, answer me."

"I'm okay, Gordon," said Irene.

"My ankles, they hurt," moaned Noel.

"My leg," groaned Priscilla. "I think it's broken."

"My ribs." said Carmine painfully.

"Guys, it looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while." said Gordon. "Irene, recover whatever you can from the chopper, especially a radio. We need to let them know that we're alive and need assistance. I'm go dig out a den for us to take shelter in. Let's get to it. If you're injured, don't strain yourself. You focus on healing. You'll just get in the way if you try to do anything." Gordon left to make good on his will, and he found a suitable place one hundred meters to the east of their position. He took out his torque bow and began digging. He had to be fast and, or the locust would come around to their crash site and kill them all. He dug with the bow arms for two hours straight, and he made a culvert in the side of a hill that he could conceal his comrades and himself in.

Gordon returned to the crash site to check to inform them that he had dug a small alcove for them. When he returned, he found them gone. Looking around, he couldn't find any footprints. Where could they be? Fear raced through his mind. What if they were dead? What if the locust were setting a trap for him? Then, Gordon heard a welcome voice in a whisper: "Hey, Gordon, over here." He looked over his shoulder and saw Irene. "Come over here, there's space for all of us. He walked over to her hunched form, and saw her head sticking out of a wall of ivy. He stuck his head through and was immediately confronted by Irene's head. "We can hide here.

"Sounds like a good idea," replied Gordon. Do we have any blankets?

"No," answered the redhead.

"Oh well. How is everyone else? Are they alright? Can their wounds heal out here?"

"They'll be fine, Gordon. It's just going to take some time." assured Irene.

"That's good to know. I guess there's nothing more to do than to sleep. We'll have to alternate watches, and one of us must always be here."

"I'll take the first watch." said Irene.

"Alright, just don't fall asleep. If you're going to fall asleep, don't risk it and get me. I'll take over for you. Well, good night Irene."

"Good night, Gordon." replied Irene. She sat on the outside, with most of her body obscured by the Ivy, making sure no one endangered her compatriots.

And as for Gordon, he was asleep within nine minutes.


	9. Sylvan Pain

Phalanx 9: Sylvan Pain

Summary: Iota Squad in the forest.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gears Of War, and I don't have anything worth taking, so don't sue me! I own the Original Characters: Gordon, Noel, Irene, and Priscilla. Other than that, I'm just renting

Gordon awoke in his armor. He at first didn't know where he was. Then, he remembered. They had been evacuating from a sunken Jacinto and a nemacyst pair took out their chopper. Only he and Irene were still functional. The others were immobilized due to injuries. Noel had both her ankles sprained, so she would be given attention and put back on her feet as quickly as possible. One of Priscilla's legs was broken, and Carmine had a broken rib or two.

It was a beautiful clear morning. Birds were singing, the sun was shining, the dew could be gone soon, and Mathew was at least hundreds of miles away. However, appearances were deceiving. When they crashed, they were not carrying any supplies, meaning that they would only have MRE's they brought with them, which were few. Gears were all about how much firepower you could cram onto a single man. As a result, they only each carried 1 MRE each. Most of the time, they scavenged food, or went hungry. It was not unheard of for Gears to starve to death due to lack of food available in long patrols. Not that they had to worry about food. They could collect plants and hunt animals. At worst, they'd go hungry until they were rescued. But until then, they had nothing but time. Gordon hoped that Irene had made it look like the crash had killed them, for the last thing he wanted was a locust attack.

He checked his weapons. The Torque Bow was fine, as was his boltok. Gordon marveled at the durability of his firearms. They had not broken due to the impact. He wished the same for his body. Right now, he ached from the treatment he had been receiving recently. The battle of Jacinto had left him drained, although practically unscathed. Being shot down had battered him significantly, although the biggest soreness he had now was due to sleeping on rocks in his armor. While it was the most painful, it was the least dangerous. The most dangerous had to have been being shot down. A veteran gear of a hundred battles could die on a routine flight. It just wasn't the crash that could kill, the locust typically went to crash sites to finish off anybody who might still be alive. If the locust didn't do that, the stranded would come, stripping the dead and dying gears of their weapons and ammunition, as well as any medicine or food. And speaking of food, he was hungry.

Gordon hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday, and knew the other hadn't either. They needed to keep up their strength, but they had no MRE's. They would have to hunt, or resort to cannibalism. Gordon suddenly remembered to look for his comrades; he had been so deep in thought. Luckily for him, they were all sprawled around the cave. Irene was slumped against a wall. Priscilla and Noel were in close proximity, with Priscilla keeping her arm around Carmine, as though protecting a treasure. The four of them were lying together, as though forming a great chain of security. Gordon suddenly felt a little empty on the inside, knowing that he had not been part of that chain. He was used to ostracization. He had dealt with that his whole life. He decided not to read too much into this incident, since after all, strange things could happen while you slept.

Seeing his companions like this brought Gordon a temporary state of peace. A brief respite from the madness and carnage that otherwise surrounded him. But, he knew that such harmony could not last long, and that their carnal need for food would have to be fulfilled soon. Nothing sapped morale and strength like an empty stomach. The difference between a happy squad and one ready to tear itself apart could be just one bowl of soup. And so Gordon went hunting for breakfast, Torque Bow in hand.

He was seeking something that could easily be eaten and have enough substance to keep them functioning. He looked around for an animal that would do that. Gordon was looking for something like a small deer or a den of rabbits. Noel might object, but Noel had proven to be a surprisingly hard person to predict. He stalked about the forest and a nearby meadow for hours, until he saw it. It was a fawn, just old enough to not be with its mother, standing in the middle of a clearing. Putting a sport arrow into his bow, Gordon took aim.

The bow began to make its trademark sounds as he squeezed the trigger, until the tension became great enough and he released the trigger, releasing the deadly projectile. The fawn had been taken aback by the sounds of the bow charging up, but stayed put. It was a very skittish animal, known to break into a full fledged run by leaves rustling too hard. The prey was about to bolt when Gordon's arrow struck it in the head, killing the animal instantly. Gordon ran up and checked to see if his quarry was dead or not. For good measure, and to drain blood, he opened the neck with one of his bow blades.

Gordon then stooped down and hoisted the fallen meal onto his shoulders. After a twenty minute walk, he was back at the cave. The others were awake now, wondering what was going on and would happen. Noel was debating with Priscilla that the COG would rescue them against Priscilla's hard conviction against being saved. Benjamin was talking with Irene about what they would do for food when Gordon walked into camp carrying the slain fawn.

"I've got our next few meals taken care of," he said. Without delay, Irene set up a fire and they began to make a barbecuing rack for the meat. That way it would last longer, and it would taste better. After an hour, they managed to get a proper rack set up, and began the messy process of butchering the carcass. Gordon knew about killing, but not about culinary butchery. He just used his bow blade to slit open the skin and to deskin the beast. Irene would not do this.

"It makes me sick," she said, looking away, as though she was watching a loved one suffer. Irene was a sensitive woman, and her empathy did not only extend to humans. Without complaint, Gordon removed the hide from the animal and cut the flesh into smaller, thinner pieces, like a pâté of smoked salmon. He got Irene's help with placing them on rack, not wanting to waste anything by accidentally dropping the goods.

Soon, a delicious smell wafted through the cave as the meat was roasted over the fire. Everyone eyed it with a hungry expression. After an hour, Gordon flipped the meat over, with a delightful sizzle. Carmine kept his helmet on. Noel was eyeing the meat like someone expecting a fine meal. Priscilla looked like she wanted to pounce on it like a lion. Irene looked disheartened, but hungry. Gordon himself was resisting heavily not to grab all the meat for himself at that very moment.

After another hour, the meat was ready. Gordon had calculated out how much meat they would need, since they would be eating an evening meal. He took out his sword and precisely cut the servings before distributing the food. The rest was kept on the rack, with the injured ones given the task of guarding it against raids. When they had finished eating, Gordon asked Irene: "Irene, did you see anything like a radio or an outpost, or a stranded camp while we were in the air?"

To this, Irene responded: "No, sorry."

"Do you think that there might be a working radio at the crash site that we could call for help on?" ventured Gordon. He wanted to make sure that all possible channels for assistance were exhausted before they attempted to make an overland trek towards wherever the COG might be.

"I don't know," she answered. "I just don't know anything. I'm sorry, but I can't help you!" Irene looked less like a soldier at that very moment and looked like a little girl seeing a dear friend in the hospital. Gordon had never thought about how much this could be hurting her. His greatest flaw was that he wasn't human enough. He had a very utilitarian, pragmatic outlook. However, that rarely won him any support. He didn't consider the human side of things very much. He had hoped that his comrades could endure and bear with him for the sake of survival. However, he had to take care of emotional and physical needs as well. Besides, he figured that it was fitting that he should comfort Irene. After all, she had been there for him after the night at the bar. She had listened to his problems and instead of turning him away, had embraced him. Gordon didn't want to lose Irene's human touch. Although he didn't understand emotions, he resolved to be there for her.

"Irene," he began, unsure of himself. "Come with me." She didn't say anything back to him, but looked distraught.

Once they were away from the others the asked: "Why are you calling me out like this?"

"It's because I need your help with what I'm doing."

"And what are you doing?" Her voice was unusually thick with a very icy chill.

"I want to understand you." explained Gordon honestly. He thought that the best probable way to succeed with Irene would be to use a very direct approach. She had been direct with him, and he thought that she deserved the same courtesy.

"No you don't!" cried Irene. Gordon was shocked. "All you want is just to persuade me to do something for you. That's all you ever do with anybody! I consented with your decisions because I thought you'd be a great leader, but you're inhuman, cruel, and impersonal. I can't let you use people as tools! Go ahead, kill me! I don't care!" She was yelling at the top of her lungs. He had upset her very deeply, and was afraid of her and her storming emotions.

"Irene," he said softly. "It's not like that at all. I really am here because I noticed that you were in distress and I wanted to help. You helped me, and I'll help you in return."

"So you're just doing this to settle a score?" mocked the redhead. Gordon had never believed her to be capable of such venom. She was a soldier, although her might lay in passion, not hatred.

"No, I want to ease your pain, Irene. You're tired, you're hungry, you're worn out, and you're feeling hopeless. I understand. I've felt those things before. I've done forced all night marches. I've been up against seemingly impossible odds. Cheer up, there's a lot more good in this situation than you think." Gordon didn't really believe his own optimism, but his usual cynical pessimism was not a good choice at the moment.

"I don't believe you!" spat the woman back. You're only six-fucking-teen! You're young. You don't know anything! You think you're invincible! You think you're never wrong. You've never seen your entire squad die on you! You don't know what it's like to be a real solider. You've said it yourself: you've spent most of your time on base!"

"Irene, I trust you. You're my friend. I wouldn't have told my true identity to anyone. And I don't match any of your descriptions between my being young and me spending most of my time on base. I just ask of you to listen to me once more while I tell you another story. It's a familiar one, but you deserve to know exactly how I ended up being forced by circumstance into the army."

"Okay, I'll listen, but don't try to manipulate me!"

"I won't." said Gordon. "The day I began my military career: April 16, twelve years after E-day. It was for me, an ordinary day of Middle School, when suddenly, the locust emerged. Within seconds, the parking lot was swarming in grubs. The teachers all yelled at us to get into lockdown positions. I did, but it didn't work on the enemy. They burst through the doors, killing everyone in their path. I saw my own twin brother die right in front of me, his life's blood wasted by a wretch's jaws. I took a hammer, because we were in shop class, and smote the wretch with a mighty blow on the head. It fell dead, but a bolter took its place. I hit it on its right shoulder, breaking its shooting arm. It punched me in the face, breaking my nose. It then rolled me over, preparing to curb stomp me when I rolled out of the way, and it missed. I struck it hard in the ribs with my mallet, bringing it panting to the floor. I momentarily hesitated, and it pulled me to the floor too. It then started to strangle me. I was dying, then, I took my hammed and struck in on the back of the head. It fell on top of me, but I wasn't done yet. I took a file and hammered it into the creature's skull. Then, a cyclops appeared. Before I could do anything, it shot me. That was my first read pain, but was nothing compared to what happened next."

"What happened?" inquired Irene anxiously. She was so engrossed in the story that she had forgotten to be furious at him.

'I'm getting to it." answered Gordon. "The cyclops had its gun pointed at me, with a bullet in my guts. Then, it revved up its lancer and brought the chainsaw upon me. Reason defying agony overwhelmed me. I screamed so loudly my throat hurt in less than a second. Suddenly, the chainsawing stopped, with me bleeding profusely and in terrible pain. I looked up, and saw a gear splitting my assailant with his own saw. I tried to stand, but then, the greatest pain overcame me, and I fainted before I hit the floor."

"I'm so sorry." cried Irene. She was on her knees, weeping uncontrollably.

"Irene," said Gordon kindly. "You don't have to make yourself suffer like this for me. Let me take your pain away."

"Idiot," she sobbed. "I can't stop feeling bad for you." The grief stricken woman looked up at him, a mixture of sadness and loathing on her face.

"Irene, I've come to terms with my past. I still feel sad about it, but I have to suppress the pain to survive." Gordon put his arms around her gently, pulling her heaving body against his. She wrapped herself around him and stopped crying gradually. Nothing more was said, although it was as if a million conversations passed between the two.

"Gordon," said Irene softly. "I'm sorry for being a drama queen. I shouldn't be so selfish."

He replied gently: "You have every right to stand up for yourself. I shouldn't have demanded so much from you. It must be overwhelming for you to have to care for three injured comrades under these conditions. I'm sorry for not taking your feelings into account. I shouldn't expect everyone to be able to deal with problems with my stoicism. I need to make room for other peoples' feelings when I make decisions."

"Gordon," she said. "Is there any other reason why we're out here together? Is there anything that we're supposed to be doing?"

"Yes there is. We're here to try to use the radio from the chopper. If it works, me may be able to get help." He explained.

"Let's do that." She replied warmly. She had not truly realized just how much Gordon had been suffering beneath his strong exterior. She could still see the troubled inner Gordon Iago Kim, and that made her feel protective of him. She wanted to help him through his pain. It was as if she was his surrogate mother. She knew that Gordon had been lying to her about his emotional state for her benefit. She smiled sadly to herself at the thought of how he ruthlessly pushed himself for the greater good. It made her proud to see such a paragon of humanity, but she knew that he really did it for pragmatic, not moral reasons.

They walked towards the crash site together, keeping in step with each other as they trundled along the path to the downed helicopter. Once there, they looked through the wreckage for the radio. They found it, but its automated frequencies along with all the computer controlled systems had died. Since no one knew Morse Code, they would have to use the radio to talk. Gordon looked through the controls, looking for a power switch. He found the button on the side of the speaker unit and pressed the button. Gordon then spoke: "This is Iota Squad. We have survived a King Raven Crash and are requesting assistance. We are holed up in a nearby cave one hundred meters to the west and caring for injured. All injuries are debilitating and we are running low on supplies. If anybody can hear us, please respond." Gordon deactivated the transmitter and began to wait. It was hardly three minutes before a response came through. The voice was rough and unprofessional.

"I hear ya!" boomed a voice enthusiastically. "What're your coordinates?"

"They are: 40 by 60." replied Gordon.

"We'll come get you in a couple of days. We've got a camp set up. Make sure ya got everyone walkin' who can, and build stretches for anyone who can't."

"Wilco, see you soon." With that, the contact ended. "Come on, Irene, let's share this with our companions." She joyously consented and they returned to the cave. They told the noise to their exuberant allies while they continued eating their deer.

Carmine exclaimed: "That's great! Now we just gotta get out of here before the locust find us!"

"I hope that happens too." said Priscilla. She was atypically warm to Carmine.

Noel added: "Then, we can get back to the COG and be seen by doctors."

"I hope so," injected Gordon. "I'm not certain that the guy on the other end was COG. They might be stranded. Even if they are, at least there should be a doctor or two with them that can set broken bones."

With their bellies full of meat, and their minds full of hope, Irene extinguished the fire. The night was cold, so they snuggled up close to each other. Gordon shut his eyes and looked optimistically towards the promise of rescue.

He wondered about Irene. Was she changing, or was he changing? Attempting to answer that question was painful for him. It brought up a lot of emotions that he didn't want to deal with at the moment. What was she really to him? Was she a comrade, a friend, a lover? He didn't know, but the answer would reveal itself in time. With his heart and mind at ease with the day, Gordon shut his eyes and fell asleep, washed in the warmth of his fellows.

Author's Notes

. I plan on matching Gordo and Irene, Carmine and Priscilla, and Noel with an unintroduced OC. If you have any input on this, vote in the poll on my profile page. The most popular choices will be selected and be used in my story.


	10. Tense Delay

Phalanx 10: Tense delay

The sun was shining overhead on the forest on a bright morning. The dew was shinning on the ground, and a thin mist was formed over the floor. Gordon awoke stiff and sore. He had not removed his armor for two days. He and his companions were awaiting pickup from their current position. They had gotten into their predicament shortly after the battle of Jacinto. They were flying with the other COG helicopters when they were suddenly shot down by a surprise nemacyst attack. Their pilot died in the crash, which injured all of them except for Gordon and Irene.

Priscilla was sporting a broken leg, Noel had both of her ankles crushed, and Carmine suffered a pair of broken ribs. Now, it was a race against time and the locust. They had to get proper medical attention for their injured quickly, or the bones would set and regrow improperly. They were also racing against the locust horde. They had to get out of locust territory as quickly as possible or ensure their own destruction. Yesterday, they had contacted an unknown group, which promised them rescue and medical treatment that would arrive two days after contact. Tomorrow would be the day of reckoning.

Gordon looked around the dugout that they had spent the last thirty-six hours in. He and his companions were huddled closely together, for the armor did not do much to warm, and they had to make sure that they did not become separated.

He thought about how things were going for them at the moment; not well. They had three incapacitated soldiers in the middle of locust territory that none of them were familiar with, and rescue had told them to get as many people walking as possible. With the nature of the injuries that his comrades had sustained, Gordon was unsure about their ability to get walking. Carmine probably would be able to get up, although greatly slowed and in excruciating pain. Priscilla and Noel on the other hand, were immobilized. No one could walk carrying the full weight of armor, weapons, and a shield with broken legs or feet.

However, it was not time for reflection, it was time for action. Gordon forced himself to get up and prepare food. They still had a large amount of the barbequed venison from earlier, which he decided to serve as breakfast. With nothing else to do, Gordon listened to the birdsongs of the morning. He tried to keep his mind busy by identifying which birds produced which songs. He heard the familiar call of the flicker. A while later, he heard warm tweeting of the sparrow. In the pristine morning, Gordon heard the croaking of frogs, and the scuttlings on innumerable small animals darting about the brush. He thought how curious it was that the small creatures were engaged in a life or death struggle right before him, although to him, the world appeared to be in an idyllic dream.

He went over to his comrades. He looked at Irene. The redhead had a sad smile on her face. Gordon didn't understand why it was there. He felt very warm towards her. And yet, he hardly knew her. Less than two weeks ago, they were total strangers. The previous day, they had had their first fight followed by a teary reconciliation. Gordon had never felt warm towards anyone to such a degree. The closest he had ever felt to another person was to his mother. He wasn't projecting oedipal emotions onto Irene; these were totally different; on more of an even level than that of the supremacy of a mother to her son.

Gordon reached out his hand to touch her. He laid his armored hand on her should her shook her awake. She stirred and opened her eyes. "I'm sorry, but we've got to make stretchers for the others. By the way, good morning."

"I guess you're right." responded Irene. "Let's get breakfast first. I'll rouse our companions while you get the food ready." She turned from him and proceeded to do just that. Gordon took out his sword and inspected the blade. It was still in good condition, despite the primitive conditions they now found themselves. He held it slightly above the deer carcass and sliced. The master craftsmanship of the weapon made quick work of the foodstuff as Gordon cut several large steaks from it.

"Hey, Gordon." came a feminine voice from behind him. He recognized the voice as Noel's and returned the greeting.

"Morning, Noel."

"What's for breakfast?"

"It's the same as yesterday; venison."

"Okay. How are you, Irene?" Noel started up a conversation with Irene, who was still rousing Priscilla. Carmine was groggy and stretched. Noel was trying to get Priscilla awake. When she did, the negress snapped awake, panicked.

"Please, don't kill me!" she yelled, terrified.

Gordon paid no attention to her. Irene was emphatic, Noel looked quizzically at her, and Carmine was concerned. "Ma'am, pardon me, but, is there something wrong?"

"No," answered Priscilla, regaining her composure. "It was just a dream."

"About what? questioned the worried Rookie."

"Nothing." came the reply again.

"Oh, okay, Ma'am." trailed of Carmine. Luckily for the two of them, at that time Gordon had finished prepping the meat and passed it out to his fellows. They all ate hungrily while Gordon gave out the plan for the day.

"Listen up. Since we're going to be evaced tomorrow, we need to do some things. Priscilla, Carmine, and Noel, you three sleep rest, and save your strength for the journey tomorrow, You also need to get your guns ready as we could face a locust attack at any time You three shall rotate watches every hour or so. Only one of you will need to be awake at a time. You may decide amongst yourselves how to divide the watches. Irene, you and I will be making stretchers for our injured. and be checking in with them on alternate hour intervals. The name of the game today is preparation. Any questions?" When no one replied, Gordon ended the briefing. He turned to Irene and said. "Get Carmine's lancer; we're going to need to cut some wood today." The woman complied and Gordon exited the cave.

He looked around him. The weather had cleared since he had first stirred and it was now an ordinary day in the forest. Gordon returned briefly returned into the cave and requisitioned Priscilla's lancer. He then instructed Irene: "We have three injured comrades. Priscilla and Noel are incapable of walking. Carmine might be. I need you to test if he can or cannot. But first, we'll each build a litter. After that, we'll that, we'll test Carmine. Are you alright with the plan, Irene?"

"I'm okay, Gordon. Let's do this." she answered. The two of them split up and Gordon searched for a tree that he could make into a crutch for Priscilla. He hadn't brought any civilian clothes, so that left them at a fabric shortage. Chances were an stretcher they made would merely be a frame crossed by some fern covered branches. Soon, Gordon found an applicable tree for the crutch. It was a tall yellow pine. He took Priscilla's lancer and revved the chainsaw. It occurred to him how long it had been since he had even held a lancer.

The last time he had held a lancer had been six months ago in Pi squad, before he had become a specialist. The discovery of the mauler prompted command to use him as a guinea pig for their next experiment: did it increase the survivability of soldiers for them to only carry a shield and a pistol? Gordon was trying to remember how to raise the chainsaw again. He looked over the weapon. Then his eyes rested on a switch. He fir his hand through the gap between barrel and blade and then he pressed the button.

With a roar, the chainsaw came to life. It was a madly dangerous yet lethal idea. One slight slip of the hands and Gordon could disembowel himself. He pulled the trigger. The bayonet let out a higher pitched roar and he brought it to a low hanging branch. The carbide-tipped implement munched through the wood. Chips and sawdust permeated the air. Within seconds, Gordon severed the branch and it fell with a mighty crash.

He turned off the chainsaw and lowered his lancer, laying it on the ground. Gordon took out his torque bow. He would need the precision blades for what he was about to do next. Gripping the torque bow carefully, Gordon took the blades and began carving off strips of wood. The process was long and tedious, with him taking special care to make his work as smooth as possible. After all, had he been in their position, wouldn't they have done the same for him? Gordon believed that they would, but as always, he was doubtful in his deepest heart of hearts. After two hours of repetitive whittling and cutting, Gordon had finished the crutch. He shouted to Irene: "I've got Priscilla's crutch done." There was no response.

Quickly becoming worried, Gordon took off the safety catch of the Lancer. He aimed down the sights, going towards Irene's last known location. He was alert, letting the sounds of the forest to fill his every fiber of being; listening for whatever broke that harmony of nature. He heard some scuffling of feet to his right behind a grove of trees. Gordon turned in that direction, squeezing the trigger, ready to shoot. He climbed up on a tree behind him and sidled along the branch. Below him, he saw a locust grenadier. He knew that this was not good. He silently brought the gun to bear, aiming down the sights at the locust below. The grenadier's head was in the middle of his sighs, unaware of his peril. Gordon squeezed the trigger, then fired.

The weapon gave a resounding retort as the bullets flew forth from its fire-spitting barrel. They impacted the unsuspecting grenadier in the legs, downing the threat. Immediately, Gordon fell down off his branch and flipped the downed grenadier onto his back. He kicked away its boltok and placed his boot on its throat. "How many of you are here?" he demanded.

"Nescio quid vis, iste. Numquam dicabo tibi quid petes." his fallen opponent retorted.

"Dicabis res volo ut scirem mihi, aut ego te verbabo, sed non necabo te, etiamsi me orares." responded Gordon fiercely.

"Num audires. Dum mineor, meos amicos appropinquant tuas millites." spat back the grenadier.

"Quot suntne?" interrorgated Gordon.

"Vide pro suo!" yelled his captive. Gordon had enough and took the chainsaw bayonet. He brought the weapon down to his throat and ripped it open with a spattering of blood.

"Requiescas in partes, Nothe." dismissed Gordon. He immediately turned back towards the cave and began running at full speed. He had to reach his comrades quickly; before the locusts did. He was nearing the cave, then suddenly, the entire forest erupted into gunfire. Hammerbursts were firing, and he saw the tracers, all aimed into the cave. Immediately, Gordon homed in on the nearest gun. He revved his chainsaw and split the drone to shoulder to him.

Suddenly, to his left, he saw a terrifying sight. A cyclops was running at him, chainsaw raised. Immediately, Gordon raised his chainsaw. His flesh remembered being ripped by a chainsaw. He brought the weapon into contact with his opponents. The saws clashed and jammed together, their motors struggling and billowing out smoke. His opponent gave a hard shove, and Gordon was on his knees, fighting desperately against the overpowering might of a merciless enemy. Desperately, he rolled to the right. The cyclops was surprised and Gordon brought his saw to its ankle, severing its foot. The fiend fell to the ground, where Gordon crushed his larynx in with his boot.

Gordon noticed that the volume of fire had decreased. He was hearing a mix of weapons echoing from the cave, and bullets clashing onto shields. His allies had managed to defend themselves. Relieved, he turned and let lose a clip to the sounds of hammerburst fire. The gunshots stopped resounding, but there was a new voice. It was shouting: "Yeehaw, that's for the girls!" The voice was rough with a very countrified accent to it. From its direction, lancer fire was ringing out. Gordon stopped and decided to let this new stranger deal with the remainder of the locust raiding party.

It was all over within three minutes. The gunfire stopped and Gordon hurried into the cave. He was faced with Carmine pointing a longshot at his face. The gear withdrew the weapon and said: "Sorry; thought you were a locust."

"No harm, no foul." replied Gordon. "That was the right response. It is always better to be safe than sorry." He now looked into the cave. Apparently, when the fighting had started, his squadmates had covered themselves with shields as best they could and fought back with the closest weapons on hand. Noel was holding a flamethrower, Priscilla had a Gorgon, and Carmine had a longshot.

"It's all clear, guys." signaled Carmine to the rest of them. They immediately relaxed their guards as Gordon entered the cave.

"Where's Irene?" he asked. They didn't answer.

Priscilla said: "I don't know. She went out with you to make stretchers and then the firefight started. I hope she's okay." Her voice was sincere.

"I'm going to go look for her." he said then exited the cave. He walked around outside, passionately seeking the red-haired warrior. He found her.

"I've found you!" Irene breathed then rushed to meet him. She flung her arms around him and held him tight. Gordon held her too, glad that she was safe. They broke apart and it was Gordon to speak first.

"Are you injured?"

"No, but thanks for asking."

"No problem. Did you get that stretcher finished?"

"Yes, I did." she stated factually. "And you?"

"I decided that it would be better if I just made a crutch for Priscilla. She's tough and it's only one damaged leg. Plus, we can't carry two stretchers. I haven't made anything for Carmine because I saw him move in the firefight and I believe that he can probably walk well enough."

"Okay. So, shall we head back."

"After you, my lady." Gordon offered her his arm playfully and she took it. They walked back to the cave and entered. Once in the cave, they held a tactical meeting. The conclusion was that they were to be prepared for their rescuers to come. They would all be carry weapons and that they would pack everything they could. In particular: the barbecued meat. Once at their new location, they would then try to contact the COG so that they could be extracted. Night was falling by the time they were finished, so Irene tended to the food while Gordon went out to get the stretcher and the crutch.

The light was low, and since he figured he would need more time to find it, Gordon sought out the stretcher first. He found it after twenty minutes of searching and carried it back to the cave after another five minutes. The crutch was far easier to find. He had made it, not being able to exactly match it to Priscilla's physical dimensions. He had erred on the side of making it too tall, as he could then later shorten it to suit her length. Gordon heard footsteps behind him. He raised the lancer and called out: "Who's there? Quid nomen tibi est?"

He heard the same gruff rural voice that he had heard early shout back: "It's me and what the hell did ya say?" Gordon advanced to see himself face to face with the scruffiest gear he had ever seen. The man appeared to be middle aged. His face was wrinkled. He wore a cowboy hat and the same old steel-colored armor that Marcus did. He had a gray beard and some gray hair showing from underneath his hat. The man stood taller than him and was well muscled.

The man offered his hand and Gordon shook it. The skin of his palm was rough and calloused; evidence of a hard life. "Howdy there, name's Dizzy."

"Gordon, howdy." he said back. "Are you our evac?"

Dizzy laughed a bit. "Me, hell no; I'm just here to get ya'll suited up for the big move."

"That's all I need to know." said Gordon. "Follow me." Dizzy did and led him to the cave. They soon entered, with Dizzy surprising many of the people of Iota Squad. Carmine, however, stared at him.

He asked uncertainly: "Uh, excuse me. Are you Dizzy, the guy who drove Sarge's rig?"

"Yep. Hey, I remember you. You're little Benjamin." called out the grizzled man happily.

"Nice to see you" he chuckled. "Hey, what was with that big locust guy" asked Carmine enthusiastically.

To this, Dizzy's face immediately darkened. He became grave and said: "I don't know. We were fighting this big locust guy with a chainsaw staff. Tai was dueling with him. He managed to hurl Tai away, then started at me. I traded a few blows with him, but he kicked my ass. He was about to cook my goose when Tai saved me. He yelled for me to get the heck outta there. I did. I don't know what happened after that." he finished. The mood for everyone was suddenly more solemn, which was soon broken by Irene announcing that food was ready. She gave everyone a slab of meat and they all ate heartily.

Gordon learned that Dizzy had a couple of daughters and a family. He had only served with the COG because of lifeboat assistance. He had bailed out and was picked up by another assault derrick. He had fought in the battle of Jacinto and was airlifted out of the city only minutes before they had been. He didn't see their chopper go down, because he was far away from them due to having to make an emergency stop to pick up some gears who were stranded in trees from the flooding. They then assumed their place at the front of the flotilla. After the migration, he and his outfit were ordered to go defend some outpost and that they had gotten their radio transmission. Dizzy had gotten to them so quickly because he had taken an unflooded locust tunnel as a shortcut, but they would be taking an APC back to Dizzy's squad. However, they first had to get out of the forest. But that would happen tomorrow.

They discussed their plans and Dizzy revealed their destination. They would be driving there tomorrow. Irene extinguished the fire and they all retreated to the back of the cave for warmth. Gordon was hopeful. They had a way out of the forest. They had an objective and they would be going there tomorrow. Dizzy seemed to be an honorable, trustworthy man. A definite roughness about him, but he had this human touch to him that Gordon hadn't seen in a man for a long time. Snuggling up against the back of the cave, Gordon shut his eyes and went to sleep, awaiting the next day's events.

Author's Notes

. I am sorry about the long time between updates; I've had school.

. Thanks to Fire Kunai for the idea of Locusts that speak Latin.

. I am a Latin student in my fourth year of study.

. GordonXIrene is a definite.

. CarmineXPriscilla is a definite.

. I still have to match up Noel with someone; send me ideas, and please, no femslash.

. Be sure to vote on my poll about where Iota Squad should go next.

. I know that there are inaccuracies between my story and the cannon; I apologize for these.

. Please review, nothing delights me more than a thoughtful review, and unless you review and vote, I cannot take any of your ideas or opinions into account.


	11. Shifting Scenery

Phalanx 11: Shifting scenery

Gordon awoke early in the morning to someone tapping his shoulder. "Hey, Gordon, get on up." He grumbled and rose to his feet and was met by Dizzy Wallin. "Get everyone ready to go." he said. Gordon went over to his sleeping companions. He tapped Irene on the shoulder.

"Irene, this is Gordon. Get up; we've got to rendezvous with Dizzy's squad in a few hours." The redhead awoke. "Pass on the news. I'm going to get breakfast ready. Could you pass me the scorcher?"

Groggily she replied: "sure." and handed him the flamethrower, and then set about waking the others. Meanwhile, Gordon arrayed the meat pieces outside the cave on a rock and pointed the flamethrower just over them. He pulled the release, and a stream of hot flames issued forth from the nozzle. The flames sucked all the oxygen from the air, and gave his face an unpleasant burning sensation. He stopped after ten seconds of firing and saw that the meat was ready. He returned to the cave bearing the food.

He reentered the cave, and fortunately, everyone had woken up. "Come and get it." he said. They ate quickly while Dizzy explained the plan.

"Our ride's gonna be over by the western edge of the woods. We gotta get over there by noon, before the grubs show up and ruin it."

"Come on Dizzy, don't jinx it." said Carmine. He sounded serious.

"Enough talk." interjected Priscilla. "Let's get a move on. Dizzy, lead the way."

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, get behind me." he announced while standing up. Gordon and Irene brought in the litter and placed Noel on it. Dizzy handed Priscilla her crutch, and Carmine leaned on his longshot. Having lifted Noel's litter, they set off. The forest was thick, and not easily passable. It began raining, turning the ground into a quagmire and chilling them with cold. Their only fortune was they hadn't met any locust forces.

They slogged on through hours, the rain growing harder, and a thick fog setting in. Gordon didn't like the turn of weather; it made it easy to fall into a trap. He raised the alert: "Everyone, be extra wary of traps and ambushes; visibility is poor, so keep your guns ready." He wished that they had some way to see in the gloom. After another hour of walking, he asked: "Anyone know why they don't give us flashlights?"

"Beats me." said Priscilla.

"I'm sure they had their reasons." said Noel.

"'Cause they're crazy like that." answered Dizzy.

"Tai said "Might over light." stated Carmine. "He meant that he'd much rather have an extra gun than a flashlight."

"That makes sense." said Irene.

"I still don't understand why they don't at least put a flashlight on our weapons." said Gordon. "Is there no duct tape on Sera? Come on, seriously. The COG have created armor that can survive falling form a multi-story building, a gun with a chainsaw on it, a laser beam that can destroy buildings from space, tanks that fire rockets strong enough to disintegrate a corpser, but they can't put a flashlight on a gun!" Gordon was laughing now. "That's like making a sniper rifle that doesn't have a scope, or a combat shotgun with a break open design!" At this point, they were all laughing hard at the absurdity or the "no duct tape on Sera" problem. Gordon stopped cracking the joke, and they proceeded, the mood considerably lightened. Even the rain seemed less chilling now.

The forest was significantly thinner now, and they could see patches of sky. The forest gradually grew thinner, until they were in an open meadow. Gordon and Irene's arms burned from carrying Noel for hours on end, and were glad to see that they were nearly through. Dizzy turned on his radio and said: "We're here; come get us." they took this as a sign to put Noel on the ground, with relieved sighs. They waited in the meadow for fifteen minutes, until the sound of an approaching APC filled their ears. Gordon turned to his left and saw the vehicle approaching. It drove across the meadow, tearing up the ground, and growing nearer until it stopped feet from them.

The APC's hatch opened and a familiar gear in blue armor emerged. His limb stuck out at an odd angle. "All aboard!" he called. They all loaded into the APC as quickly as possible and set off immediately.

Dizzy asked the driver: "Kyle, Where're Sam and Mick at?"

Without glancing back, the driver answered: "They're back at the facility. And stop worrying about Tom; he's not going to do anything."

"Who's Tom?" asked Carmine inquisitively.

"I don't really freaken know." snapped the driver.

Dizzy answered: 'Tom's a COG Marine."

"A what?" demanded Carmine.

"He's a marine from the COG. Bet you didn't know that we had a Marine Corps. Neither did I. Watch it though; he's a little messed up in the head. We found him hiding in the facility when we first arrived. The SoB damn near killed Kyle." Dizzy stopped talking, and silence filled the APC, save for the engine and outside noise. Priscilla and Noel began discussing something of importance, and Carmine fell asleep; the journey had been hard on him.

Gordon said to Irene: "Did you know that we had a marine corps?"

"I know we did during the Pendulum Wars. I didn't know about after E-day."

"Guess that's another thing we didn't know." stated Gordon. "And to think that we had an entire additional force at our disposal the whole time.

'It's weird." Acknowledged Irene. " And since Jacinto was so close to the sea, there could have been Marine security forces instead of forcing us army soldiers to do police work. "

"I get the point: use the Marines to defend the city while they send us soldiers out to fight the locusts. Command does a lot of illogical crap, but this takes the cake." Suddenly, a loud, rough cry filled their ears. "Drones!"

"No shit!" yelled Kyle. "Somebody get on the goddamn turret!" Gordon climbed up through the hole and situated himself behind the mulcher. He peered down the barrel and opened fire on the nearest pack of drones. The heavy bullets tore them to bloody wrecks. Gordon spun around, keeping the barrels spun up. Something big and gray appeared in his vision: boomers! He opened fire again, killing one of the hulk, but he wasn't quick enough. An RPG slammed into the APC, disturbing the occupants.

"Floor it!" shouted Gordon.

"This thing won't go any faster!" retorted Kyle. "Shoot the bastards!"

"You don't have to remind me." answered Gordon calmly as he tore apart another boomer. He opened the cooling vents on the mulcher, and then resumed firing. Then, things started shooting from the sky. "Hang on; we got mortars incoming!" Gordon aimed up, and aimed for the dark smoke trails. They were barely visible against the dark clouds, and they came in droves. "Kyle, they're coming from our left at eleven 'o' clock. Turn that way; we've got to kill the seeder, or we won't make it!"

Angrily, Kyle turned in the direction Gordon proscribed. Gordon was still fending off nemacyst after nemacyst. In the distance, he saw the protruding mass of the seeder. He cooled his gun, and then opened fire. The bullets tore into the seeder's tough hide, drawing blood. The beast roared in pain, and Gordon kept firing. Kyle circled the monstrosity. The mulcher overheated. Gordon swore. He waited for the gun to cool, and then resumed killing the seeder. It took him three more overheats, but finally, the beast died. Suddenly, three dark objects descended from the clouds, launching rockets at the APC.

"Gordon, get your fucking ass in gear and kill those reavers!" With an irate grunt, Gordon sighted in on the airborne terrors and opened fire. The first fell quickly. The second, however, was ready and darted around too quickly for Gordon to track, raining machine gun fire down on them. Gordon desperately tried to make out a pattern. He found it, and concentrated a burst of gunfire at the midpoint of the reaver's pattern. The bullets found their mark, and the reaver dropped, struggling the whole way down before finally crashing to death on the ground.

The third reaver flew high, barely a spec in Gordon's vision, firing rockets down on them. In vain, he fired at it, but it was too high; his gun simply couldn't make the shot. The mulcher jammed. "Irene, pass me my bow and an explosive arrow!" She hurriedly handed him his torque bow and an arrow. He fitted in the projectile. "Reaver season begins now." he muttered.

Gordon tracked the flying beast, searching for a pattern. He found it. Suddenly, a rocket slammed into the hull of the APC. "Kill that son of bitch now!" yelled Kyle furiously. Gordon tuned him out, retreating into his inner quiet. He squeezed the trigger. The bow began building tension. Gordon watched the reaver's flight. He fired and shouted: "Too close to the sun!" The arrow shot out from Gordon's bow, and slammed into the reaver's flesh. The explosive sparked, and exploded, eviscerating the monster's flank, sending it tumbling from the sky a bloody mess.

Gordon returned into the APC, sweaty and shaken. "They're all dead. Is everyone alright?"

Kyle was the first to answer: "Yeah, but no thanks to your gunning."

Irene countered: "He did the best he could, and I'm fine; shut up."

Priscilla responded: "I'm good."

"My legs hurt like hell from those blasts, but I'm okay." said Noel.

Dizzy replied: "That was a bitch, but my goose ain't cooked."

Finally, Carmine added: "I'm alright, Gordon."

"We're all here and unharmed." concluded Gordon. "Let's get to wherever it is you're taking us." Kyle checked the GPS and corrected his course. After another half hour of driving, they arrived at their destination.

"Here we are." announced Kyle. Gordon stuck his head out of the gun turret and surveyed their surroundings. They were driving towards a large portal in a high masonry wall. They drove through the portal, over the downed iron gates, and into a large courtyard. To the left, there were many roofs , and to the front, there was a large structure and a freight elevator. Kyle parked the APC and opened the hatch. "Everybody out." he said. Dizzy and Carmine this time lifted up Noel's litter. Gordon and Irene dismounted the APC and carried their goods with them. They followed Kyle and went around to the left side and walked along an outdoor atrium, flanked by the walls of the building. He opened a door at the far end and they stepped into an atrium. He said: "Welcome to New Hope Research Facility, the most inappropriately named place on Sera."

They were in a front room of sorts. There were desks and computers scattered around, and the place reeked of shit. The air was damp, but at least they were out of the weather. Kyle showed them around, indicating a closet like room with threadbare bunk beds in it, which was designated as Kappa Squad's quarters. At the end of the hall was the remains of some great blast door, which had been blown open with tremendous force. Behind there, there was an overlook containing computers over some low structures Beyond this room, there were more hallways, all of them equally dilapidated, but some efforts had been made to tidy them up a bit. Further on, there was a room to the right containing moth eaten furniture that Kyle identified as Iota Squad's quarters.

Even farther back in the facility was a room that looked like an operating theater that Kyle called the infirmary. Here they took Noel off her stretcher, much to her relief, and laid her down on the table. The group then concluded the tour when Kyle pointed to a set of heavy doors down a corridor with a low channel, and a higher, barred walkway to its left. He said: "That's Tom territory. I ain't goin' in there. Let me tell you guys: there's some freaky shit back there. You can go in there at your own risk, but leave me out of it!" With that, Kyle left them.

Gordon said to Irene: "I'm going to explore the rest of this facility. There's a significant chance that I'll place my own quarters far away from yours. If that happens, don't be offended; I simply like having my own territory. You'll be allowed in it, but if I tell you to leave, kindly do. I am highly territorial; it's nothing personal."

"Okay." said Irene. "I understand. Sometimes I like to have my own space too. Do you think I should get some beddings and stuff for Noel?"

"You should; it's going to be quite uncomfortable lying on your back in armor on a hard operating table. Well, I'll be seeing you later."

"Later." she said. And with that, they split off. With that, Gordon went deeper into the facility, intent on exploring and finding his own personal space. He was in a room full of what appeared to be stasis tanks which smelled like rotting meat. Fortunately, any broken glass had been swept away. Gordon passed through rooms of these things, eventually coming to what appeared to have once been a gate that had been torn off its hinges by a great force. Behind him, Gordon saw motion.

"Hello." he called. No answer came. "Is there anyone there?"

"I'm right here." came a voice onlyt feet to his right. Gordon jumped, and drew his wakizashi. "Relax." said the voice. "I haven't seen you before. Who are you?"

Gordon looked to his right. He saw a man of approximately six foot and one inch height. He had a short mane of wavy chestnut brown hair and sculpted features. "I'm Gordon." he said to the man.

"Nice to meet you, Gordon." he replied. "Name's Tom. Don't listen to what Kyle told you; I'm not dangerous. Well, not to you." he said this with a slight edge of anger in his voice, but his features remained calm. Neither of them spoke for several seconds. "Can I offer you a coffee? It's not exactly fresh, or tasty, but it's hot."

"Sure." replied Gordon. "Lead the way." Tom lead him deeper into the facility, into a room with a cot In it. There was a small camping stove with a can on top of it in the middle of the room. From this, Tom poured the coffee into two mugs. He handed the second to Gordon and they chatted. Gordon spied an old double barrel shotgun matching Kyle's description and asked: "Tom, is that gun yours?"

Tom's face lit up with pride. "Sure is. It belonged to my great grandfather, before immulsion was discovered. It's a break open, double barrel, eight gauge shotgun."

"Have you ever used it in combat?"

"I have. I've been using it ever since I first joined the Marines six years ago. It's a good gun; saved my life a lot of times. There's a lot of locusts that aren't breathing because of it."

"Interesting." replied Gordon. "My only personal weapon that has any kind of history to it is my wakizashi." he drew the sword. "I spent eight thousand dollars of my own pay on it. It's a historical weapon also. It was made in the ninth year of the Chimera Emperor by the legendary swordsmith: Asmodokai for the emperor's first born son to be his weapon when he first went off to war. The boy survived, and later bore the sword in his conquest of a neighboring kingdom. After the boy died, the weapon passed to his heir; the signature weapon of his dynasty. Later, with the primacy of guns, it became a ceremonial weapon; for wearing in formal regalia and coronations. The last time it took a human life was when the last Chimeran prince used it to fight a duel thirteen years before his overthrow by colonial powers. The sword was taken from the palace to keep it from being plundered by the conquerors. After that, its history is murky, and I bought it in an antique shop for eight thousand bucks. It's saved my life in many fights, and prevented many fights too. There's something intimidating about a sharp sword that a gun just doesn't have. I'm not a prince. That is the story of my sword."

"That's really something." said Tom in awe. By now, they had finished their coffee.

"I guess I'll be seeing you, Tom." said Gordon.

"You too." said Tom and Gordon exited the room. Now he had to find some blankets for himself. He found a set in a cabinet. They were surprisingly well cared for, and he rolled them into a ball and put them over his shoulder. He went deeper into the facility. , and eventually exited into what appeared to be a train yard. He saw a building to his right and entered. It was small, but he felt that this was isolated enough for him to be able to call his own territory. He spread his blankets in the corner and rested his shield on them, finally taking the load off his back. Gordon stretched, and then returned to the main facility in search of food.

At the atrium, he heard the sound of a portable stove, and decided to wait before deciding whether or not to risk that they would partake in the food. His doubts were quelled when Dizzy's voice called over the intercom: "Dinner's served. Come and get it, you too ladies." Gordon relaxed his guard and appeared. They had apparently made some beef stroganoff in a large pot, and had enough bowls for everyone. Gordon was surprised at this communal spirit; his experience had been that everyone had to get their own food.

Dinner was a happy occasion. The food was warm, and the conversation pleasant. They all managed to eat a good serving, and the leftovers were stored for the next day. After dinner, Gordon went to Iota's quarters to meet with the girls.

Priscilla greeted him: "Gordon, I have contacted control. We are to stay here with Kappa Squad until they can arrange for us to be flown to the new stronghold. Anya didn't give a timetable, and she sounded quite flustered. Marcus is relieved that we're all alive, and Hoffman has some kind of mission for us once we get there. That's all."

"Thanks for the intel, Priscilla." said Gordon. "How's the squad?"

She answered him: "Noel's fine, but it's going to take time for her to heal. Irene's okay, and told us where you'd gone. I'm personally quite fine. Carmine's in pain, and can't move around very well, but he's managing. If you ask me, the kid's sweet on me. And I guess you're alright."

"I haven't been this well in a long time." answered Gordon truthfully.

"That's good to know." replied the negress. "I guess now I would debrief you all." Priscilla briefly paused before shouting: "Iota Squad: form up!" Everyone immediately scrambled into line as quickly as possible. Priscilla addressed them, leaning on her crutch: "Iota Squad: today has been a big day. We have arrived at New Hope Research Facility, and have received orders to remain here. We killed a seeder, and met up with Kappa Squad. Iota Squad, dismissed!"

The soldiers dropped out of line and took up places on the dilapidated furniture, and then divested themselves of their armor. Gordon returned to his den and removed his armor, glad to finally have it off him. He crawled into the blankets, and wrapped them around himself. He put hilt of his wakizashi in his hand and fell asleep.


	12. Family Histories

Phalanx 12: Family Histories

Gordon awoke in the morning to the sound of rain pattering on the roof. The rain had not let up from the previous day, and Gordon was thankful not to be out in it. He had been hoping to possibly explore and map the facility and area, but, unfortunately the weather had other ideas. He felt cool and fresh in his den. He rose out the blankets, and felt colder. He wished that he had been able to rescue his civilian clothes, particularly his jacket and his rain pants.

He stood up and donned his armor, and placed his weapons on and slung his quiver full of arrows onto his back. Lastly, he hung his wakizashi on his waist. He'd need to take care of it soon; it wasn't rust, grime, and corrosion-proof, unlike his other weapons. Gordon finished dressing and arming himself, and then stalked around his den for a while, tidying the place up; folding the blanket up, removing litter, and internally deciding on a tarp for the doorway. He deemed that he'd look around for some canvas and some epoxy. Then, he stepped outside.

The rain hit him slightly on the head, but hardly ruffled him. He entered the facility and saw that the sunken area underneath what must have once been a glass dome had became an overnight pond. He walked through the facility's dark and dank corridors, concerning himself with finding a store room. Many of the doors had been sealed off. For what reason, Gordon didn't know, but suspected that it wouldn't be nice to learn. After half an hour, he hadn't found anything, and began heading to his squad's location. He saw a shadow flash across his path. He turned sharply around, but there was nothing there. He continued walking, with inquiry on his mind.

When he reached his squad's quarters, he saw that they had only risen recently. Feeling helpful, he found the remainder of the beef stroganoff and heated It up on a propane camping stove. Within minutes, the food was nice and ready, so he put a ladle in there, and wrote on a notecard: "help yourself." He himself ladled out two bowls, and got a pair of spoons, and walked towards the infirmary. Along the way, he encountered Tom, who was unarmed, save for a knuckleduster.

"Where are you going, Gordon?" he asked.

"To the infirmary; I'm bringing Noel some breakfast. There's plenty of the beef stroganoff in the pot back in the atrium if you want any."

"Mind if I come with?"

"Sure." The two walked together in silence, until Gordon breached the question: "Tom, have you heard or seen anything running around here?"

"I've seen loads of stuff." answered the Marine. "It's mostly just rats, but sometimes, you see the occasional wretch, but nothing more than that."

"Around what area do most of the wretch sightings occur?"

"Usually around the ruined stasis tanks. Why are you asking?"

"Because this morning, when I was heading towards the atrium, I saw a shadow. I didn't have time to see what its caster was. Sure as hell didn't look like a wretch, or anything else that I've seen for that matter." said Gordon.

"What did it look like? Tell me." replied Tom.

Gordon hesitated, and answered: "like a person with wings."

Tom broke out into laughing. "You, you've got to be kidding me! A man with wings! Oh, that's a good one, Gordon!" Gordon was not amused.

"Drop it." said Gordon testily.

"Okay, okay." chuckled Tom, trying to suppress his mirth. They had not arrived at the infirmary, and the bowls of soup were still hot. The door was open, and Noel was awake. She hadn't slept much the previous night.

"Oh, hello, Gordon, how are you?" she asked in a drained voice.

"I'm fine." he replied. "How are you?"

"Tired; I didn't sleep much last night; my damn broken legs kept me up. Not to be rude, but who's he?" she asked, pointing to Tom.

"He's Tom." answered Gordon. She slightly flinched. "Don't worry." he assured her. "He's not a danger to you." Noel relaxed.

"Hi, Tom, nice to meet you." she said.

"Nice to meet you too, Noel." Tom replied. Gordon handed her a bowl of beef stroganoff.

"I'm going now. I'll see you two later." said Gordon.

"Later." they said, and Gordon exited the room, and he was immediately greeted by Irene.

"Morning, Gordon." she greeted.

"Morning, Irene." he replied. She was wearing civilian clothes, and was only armed with the Kantus pistol. She was eating the reheated beef stroganoff.

"How are you this morning?"

"I'm fine. And you?"

"Great; we finally have a roof over our heads, and I can get some decent food, no offense."

"None taken." replied Gordon. "What were you planning on doing today?"

She answered: "I was going to see if any of the guys here know how to set broken bones. Irene's legs really have to be taken care of, and I want to see carmine's injuries doctored properly. "

"I was hoping to explore and map the facility and the grounds, but unfortunately, I'll have to wait until the rain lets up. Until then, I'm going to train. Maybe find some canvas and epoxy later on to fix over my doorway." answered Gordon. "Maybe when you're done you'd care to join me in training?"

Irene paused for a moment, muttering something under he breath, and then answered: "Okay. What sort of training?"

"CQB." clarified Gordon. "Fighting at close quarters with and without weapons."

"Okay." said Irene. "Where should I meet you?

"Remember the room at the end of the hallway that's right through the overlook?"

"I remember."

"I'm going to be around there, just keep going as if you were headed towards Tom's territory."

"Okay." she consent.

"And one more thing." added Gordon. "Don't wear armor." Irene looked slightly taken aback by this, but nodded in agreement. Martial arts training was usually done without armor to reduce the risk of injury in full contact spars; fists of steel hurt a lot more than bare knuckles. Having said that, Gordon walked off, seeking canvas and epoxy. After an hour of searching, he found a supply closet.

He looked through the contents: food, cleaning supplies, tools, and a riot shotgun. "What the hell is this thing doing here?" he wondered. Gordon scrounged through the closet a second time, and found a spool of heavy linen and a roll of epoxy. The odd contents of the closet didn't surprise him very much; he had seen weirder.

Taking the adhesive and the fabric with him, Gordon returned to his den. He set his load on the ground. It had mercifully stopped raining, although the sky was still overcast. He drew his wakizashi and set to work. After an hour's measuring, cutting, and sticking, he had a serviceable entrance flap, and sheathed his weapon. Gordon stashed his materials inside the den, and then climbed on top of the metal awning.

What he saw was a huge train yard complex that stretched for as far as he could see, with a huge, snowcapped mountain in the distance Most of it was in ruins. What remained was mostly wall less concrete platforms with sheet metal roofs. This place had undoubtedly seen better days. However, Gordon didn't understand why such a facility would need such a massive and complex rail yard. He didn't see any pulled up railbeds. Curious, he continued his explorations.

After walking the perimeter of the walls once, Gordon was left more questions than answers. The tracks didn't lead anywhere, there were no gaps in the wall asides from the main gate, and there wasn't even a helipad. There weren't any sort of barracks, workers' quarters, or even holding areas for prisoners .It was all extremely strange. After another walk around the walls, he concluded that the place was built like a prison, but not for anything that he knew about, but Gordon did learn something: there was a hidden set of train tracks leading to Tyro Station. After that, the rain began to fall again, slowly at first, but soon, it was a torrential downpour.

By the time he got back to the facility, he was soaked. Gordon stepped into his den briefly to dry himself off on his blanket, and then stepped out again. He quickly made his way to where he had arranged to spar with Irene, slightly nervous about making an ass of himself, or making an inappropriate grab or touch. Gordon reached the room, and removed his armor, leaving only his shirt, shorts, and socks remaining. On him, the shorts were large, hanging loosely on him, and hung down to just above his knees. The cotton tee-shirt he wore hung loosely on him, hanging all the way down to his pelvis. Finally, his socks fit the best of any of his clothes. The elastic meant that they clung weakly to his calves, although he had altered them on more than one occasion to his changing form. Gordon the n deposited his weapons and armor on the side and waited.

While he waited, Gordon warmed up, throwing punches and kicks through the air, stretching out his limbs and warming up his muscles. After five minutes of warming up, he stopped and stretched out his muscles. His arms were muscled quite nicely, although not ripped, or even that notable compared to other gears. His legs were incredibly well muscled, even for a gear. His thighs had large muscles on the back, and his calves were slightly bulbous. He waited five more minutes, then Irene appeared.

Gordon finally had a good look at her form beneath the armor, and he had been right. She wasn't very muscular, and he remembered that he had swapped bench presses with the squad. Priscilla was the strongest at 140 pounds. Next was him, at 100 pounds. Then came Irene, at 80 pounds. Lastly was Noel, who could do only a mere 70. He didn't know about carmine. His guess pinned him at about 130 pounds. She was wearing a white tee that exposed her navel, and a pair of cottons shorts, which came down to mid thigh on her. To keep her feet from going cold, she had on a pair of socks. Gordon stifled a laugh about how ridiculous they must look.

"I didn't think that you were going to show up." remarked Gordon.

"I was going to show up. It's just that it took Tom longer to attend to Noel and Carmine than I thought." she explained.

"What did he do?" inquired Gordon.

"He gave Noel a splint on her leg, set Carmine's broken ribs, and pulled the bullets out of him."

"Bullets?" demanded Gordon; he only knew of one bullet.

"Carmine had been shot multiple times. He had a hammerburst round in his chest, and he was shot again at Jacinto."

"It's hard to believe that he managed so well with a number of bullets in him. He's tough for a kid." said Gordon.

To this, Irene countered: "Don't forget: You're a kid too." Gordon went silent.

He formed the reply and then countered: "Only chronologically. Being in the army has transformed me beyond my years, and my family always said that I was the immature one."

"Mine always said that I was the perfect daughter. I can count the number of times that I seriously tried their patience on one hand."

"That's better than me." replied Gordon. "I pissed off my twin a lot. Minh wasn't too proud of me either; called me irresponsible, immature, and unintelligent. At least he didn't beat me."

"Who did, your parents?" asked Irene.

"No, my twin; he was a lot stronger than me, with a temper and lack of restraint to match. That's part of the reason that being around you girls intimidates the hell out of me."

"How are we intimidating you?"

"When I was a kid, I lacked a lot of social graces. It pissed my twin off a lot, and made me a target of bullies. I learned that the only thing I could do was shut the hell up, speak only when spoken to, and learn to be extremely paranoid, especially of girls.

"Why? What was the trouble with girls?"

Gordon hesitated slightly, and then gave his response: "I didn't get along well with most people, but it was worst with chicks. I have a penchant for being unintentionally insensitive, and I did not understand them at all. As I got older, I naturally tried to get a girlfriend. Two things would always happen. I would either hear a yes answer, show up at the appointed place at the appointed time, and then she would never show up. Or, I would get a flat out no answer, and then no matter what I did, I would have trouble with just about everyone, hearing people call me a pervert, retard, or sap. I'm somewhat glad that they all died." finished Gordon bitterly.

"I'm sorry to hear that." consoled Irene. "I don't think you're a bad guy at all. You're just different." Gordon half smiled and half glared, caught between the emotions of hope and anger. Hope, because they came from someone who wasn't actively employed in his future for monetary for career gain, and anger, because he had so often heard those words with condescension. This time, he heard them with sincerity.

"Thank you for being so compassionate." replied Gordon. "Still, don't trouble yourself needlessly with my baggage; I've numbed myself to the point where I feel very little."

"Okay." she said wistfully. "Gordon, are we going to train, or talk all day?"

Regaining his usual demeanor, Gordon declared: "Let's get down to business. We'll stretch out first, then we'll begin sparring. Begin." having said that, Gordon lead Irene through a series of basic PT exercises for ten minutes. After a brief cool down, Gordon explained the parameters for their match. "It's very simple." he explained. "Execution rules; full body contact; grabs, throws, take downs, headstrikes, kicking, and grappling allowed. Full force, full speed, grappling is allowed, To win, you must bring your opponent to the ground and perform a finishing blow. Finishing blows are not allowed to impact with deadly force. Got it, Irene?"

"I get it." she responded, ready to fight.

Gordon dropped into his fighting stance. The two locked eyes and strafed in a circle. Gordon made the first move, advancing slowly towards Irene. Gordon gave a little lunge, faking out Irene, who raised a leg. Instantly, Gordon darted around to her back and struck his forearm into her back, knocking her face first. He went for a curb stomp, but she twisted out of the way and kicked his hip.

He stumbled, and regained his composure just in time to block a jab from Irene. Using his balanced stance to his advantage, he threw a series of well placed rapid jabs and punches at Irene's head. The redhead blocked and tried to counterattack, but he was too fast; an open palm attack brushed across her face, and forced her to retreat.

Now pressing his advantage, Gordon went for the take down. Irene threw a kick at him to stop his approach, but he ducked under it and sprang upwards. He caught her by surprise, and she fell to the floor. Here, her larger size gave her an advantage in grappling. Gordon tried to deliver the final strikes to her temples, but she grabbed his hand, and then bolted forwards, placing her other arm across Gordon's chest, and flipped him.

Gordon rolled onto his back, surprised at Irene's strength. She had a larger body; and could exploit the leverage it gave her. She used her longer arms to pin him to the ground. She flipped him onto his front, and made as if to snap his neck. Gordon grabbed her hand and twisted, and the wedged his elbow onto her forearm, forcing her off him. He quickly rose to his feet, determined to win. He first sideswiped her with his arms, knocking aside her defense, and then brought his foot down on her head, winning the fight.

They froze there, panting. The spar had drained both of them. Gordon removed his foot from Irene's skull and offered her a hand. Graciously, she accepted, and he pulled her to her feet. "That was a really hard fight." admitted Gordon. I thought you were going to get me."

"True," replied Irene. "You're way cleverer than me."

"Don't sell yourself short; it takes brawn to KO a grub. I'm not very strong, and I don't have your long limbs, meaning that I don't have the same mechanical advantage as you. That's why I have a sword."

"That makes sense, but does it work; can you kill a really tough locust with it, like say for example: a grenadier?"

"I actually can, and I have. I managed to decapitate a grenadier which attempted to sneak into a King Raven refueling depot."

"That's great. How many were with him?" she asked.

"About six." answered Gordon truthfully. "It was a stealth operation, and I killed the other five with my lancer. "

"You had a lancer?" asked Irene.

"Yes, I did. I used to be in squad Alpha 12. It was my first assignment, and I was transferred into Pi Squad because of my single handed annihilation of a locust battalion during the Lightmass bombing operation."

"How did you do it?" asked Irene eagerly.

Gordon told her: "It's a long story, but I'm going to tell it to you anyways. Let me know if you get bored. Anyways: I was on a King Raven and it crashed. It was the third team deployed to East Barricade Academy only an hour after the insertion of Delta Squad. We were downed by a Brumak and machinegun fire near the conservatory, and I rolled onto a rooftop, right next to a locust Troika. I killed the gunner with my sword by slashing through his diaphragm, and by pushing him off the edge. I next took control of the turret and killed the Brumak, along with many other locusts. I manned the machine gun until an RPG from a boomer destroyed the turret, and I pulled out my frag grenades. I planted one by the entrance to the room and hurled the rest into the crowd of locusts beneath me. I then readied my lancer and fired into them. I killed many, but I exhausted all my ammunition with thirty remaining. I took out my pistol and slew eight more, and depleted my pullets for that. With no more bullets, I took the dead gunner's hammerburst and readied it. I had only a hundred and twenty rounds, but readied to use the weapon. The remaining locusts came up the stairs, where four of them were killed by my grenade. I used the hammerburst to kill twelve of them. I chainsawed one, slew another with my sword, beat one to death, and killed the final one by shooting his head off with the final round of a slain grenadier." Gordon paused

Irene asked: "What happened next?"

"I contacted Anya and requested medevac, explaining that I was the last one alive and I that I was on a rooftop, and that I had sustained several severe injuries, including a broken shoulder, lacerations to my abdomen, and crushing injuries due to my fall. She rerouted a chopper, which was carrying Major Giovanni." explained Gordon. "They got me aboard, and a medic saw to my wounds. He patched me up well, and Major Giovanni, who had seen the carnage I had wrought asked me my name, rank, and squad. I told him: "Private First Class, Gordon Iago Kim, Alpha fifteen, sir." He then told me that he'd put me in for commendations. After that we were silent, until I reached a hospital in Jacinto. I stayed in it for a full day before being discharged. A week later, after I was deemed fit to reenter active service again, I was reassigned to Pi Squad, and I received my letter from my brother. It read: "Dear brother, since I might not return from the operation tomorrow, I am writing you this letter. I hope that by the COG it reaches you and that you turn your life around. Gordon, I've truthfully always been disappointed in you. You were never true to the COG, and you were never a man. Your whole life, you've been a self serving fuck. I had hoped that joining the army would have made you into a better person, but I was wrong, all it did was teach you how to kill. If one of us should die during the operation, I pray that it would be you, because you truly are a pathetic waste of space." By this time, the carrier had left, and I was very angry, I asked Anya where Minh was. She said that she was sorry and that he had been KIA. I wasn't sad at all that he had died. I was angry, but more so, I felt despair. He was one of our best officers, and he hadn't even been in the war very long. Secondly, I felt fear for myself, for Minh had a five year old son from an arranged marriage with a Pesang woman, and by no means do I want to look after a kid. Finally, I got what was left of the family money in inheritance and I transferred into Pi, and was awarded an Embry Star. That's my story. What's yours, Irene?"

Irene blushed and said modestly: "It's nothing important compared to yours. Also, I don't really feel comfortable keeping secrets between the two of."

"So we should have the squad share life stories?" inquired Gordon.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we should." confirmed Irene. Gordon looked slightly panicked, but she assured him: "don't worry, you can trust them with who you really are."

"Are you sure?" asked Gordon nervously.

"I'm positive, Gordon. Besides, no one's going to treat you any differently."

"I hope you're right, Irene. I guess we'll do this after supper."

"Okay, we'll do it after supper." she consented. The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon together chatting and training until going back to the atrium for supper. By that time they had done several more spars, and indeed, Irene had beaten Gordon just as often as he had beaten her. The grub was baked beans and canned pineapple; weird, but to Gordon, quite tasty.

"Ugh." complained Noel. "What is this stuff?"

"That's canned Pineapple, Sargess." chirped Carmine.

"I know." she snapped back, annoyed. "It's just disgusting."

Priscilla intervened: "Noel, just eat. Carmine, don't speak to her; she's in a shitty mood,"

"Why, Ma'am?" asked Carmine concernedly.

Priscilla told him: "because she's hardly slept since the crash and her leg still hurts a lot, now shut up and eat."

"Um, yes, ma'am." complied Carmine sheepishly. After the meal, Gordon got stuck with KP.

He said briefly to Irene as she came by with her dish: "Get them talking and in the mood to share. If you can find some liquor, that would help."

"Don't worry, I got this." she replied with confidence and she walked after the others to Iota Squad's quarters. Gordon finished the dishes and quickly went to his den. He got the blanket and went to his squad's quarters. He entered in on them having a group conversation. He dropped his blanket on the nearest available bunk, and sat down on it, removing his armor and weapons. He finally got a look at Carmine's face. The rookie had brown, Latino skin. His features were young, but dirty, and his jaw was set with muscle. He had a small amount of recently buzzed brown hair, and his brown eyes burned with a youthful enthusiasm. He looked too young to be in the army. That was more than Gordon could say for himself; his service record was etched and scarred into his flesh.

Irene had maneuvered and cajoled them into position. She posed the fateful question: "Since we're all in the same squad, everyone, why don't we share personal histories?" She had gotten them all into a good, open mood. Carmine looked to Priscilla.

The Lieutenant answered: "I'm game. What about you guys?"

"Let's do it." said Carmine.

"Okay, sure." responded Noel. "Where should we start, Irene?"

"I'll go first." she answered. "We'll go around the circle clockwise. It'll go: me, then Noel, then Carmine, then, Priscilla, then Gordon. Here's my story: I was born twelve years before E-day in the valley of Tyro. My parents were working folks, and they made me excel in school. They wanted me to become a doctor, but fate had other plans. Six years ago, when I was twenty, I joined the army. Since then, I've spent most of my time in the rear echelon, and I've only seen combat a few times. I joined this squad when a runner came and told me to go co command, and that's it for me. Okay, Noel, go ahead, tell us about your life."

The silverette was slightly nervous, but told them: "I was born ten years before emergence day, in Landown. My parents were military through and through. They drilled me mercilessly. I was always told: "If you've got a problem, it's your fault, so deal with it." During the Winter of Sorrow, we moved to Jacinto. My parents always pressured me to join the army, and I didn't care. I just wanted to make them happy. Training was a bit of a shoick, although I was alreayd pretty used to stuff like that. I've lived a spartan life, although I wouldn't say no to a hot shower, or to some gourmet cooking. I've seen a good amount of frontline combat, but I've mostly been promoted for heroics. I joined this squad when a runner came to me and told me to go to command. It's your turn, Carmine."

The boy wasted no time in reciting his narrative. I was born in Jacinto. I have three brothers, Anthony died during the lightmass offensive, a hero's death. We grew up with our ma, but she wanted girls. Clay's in the army. He's a Sergeant now. He told me that I should wear a helmet; it's saved his life. I joined the army only a few months ago, and passed basic training. I'm a really good shot with the sniper. I got immediately placed in Delta Squad, under Marcus Fenix. My first battle was this short thing at a hospital, after that, we went on the Landown Assault. We got to our dig site, about to go down the grindlifst, when Tai jumbed out. I heard a shot of chainsaw fighting, and some shouting, but after that, I went down the lift. I got out at the bottom. I met some other gears, but then, the locust attacked, and they all died. Sarge came and saved me just in time. After that, we fought through the locust tunnels, and found this giant worm, and went through the sunken city of Ilima. We met up with Cole ,and then we freed Baird. We got on this big, locust, barge thing. On it, we found Tai. He killed himself. He had been tortured; a lot of his flesh had been ripped out of his back; I could see his ribs. Anyways, we were evaced from this rooftop by a chopper after a shootout with some locust, and one got me in the chest. Our pilot tried to get us out of there. but the giant work thing swallowed us. I fell out of the chopper, and woke up surrounded by these weird things. They tried to rip me open, but I fought all of them off, but one got on me, and Sarge saved me. After that, we chainsawed the worm's hearts out, and cut ourselves out of it. After that, we took a Centaur to this place, and Sarge went in with Dom. I stayed outside by the Centaur with Cole and Baird. It razor hailed for a bit, but the moment it stopped, some reavers came. We kill them, and we took the Centaur up Mount Kadar into some sort of locust place. We killed a lot of Brumaks and Corpsers. We found some stranded, and we got them out in our tank, and then took grindlifts into the locust city. It was huge; so big I couldn't see across it, even with my sniper rifle. Sarge, Dom, Cole, Baird, and I took this cable car to a huge building in the middle of the ocean of immlusion. We got in, and found the locusts fighting some glowing locusts, which the clean called Lambent. We fought through them, and eventually got to the queen. She looked, like a gray-skinend human lady, with a freaky dress and some tentacle things on her back. Then, she called this freaky locust guy called Skorge and ran for it. He had a double chainsaw staff. Sarge ordered Cole, Baird, and I to go after the queen, and we ran after her. We tried to catch her, but she escaped on a reaver. She didn't totally getaway unhurt though we all shot after her until she flew out of sight, and I got her in the shoulder with my sniper rifle, but that weird thing on her back is really tough. Immediately afterwards, a huge, horned reaver showed up, and that freaky locust guy got on it. Sarge and Dom came, and Baird said that the queen escaped on a reaver. We ran across a bridge, and got on reavers. I got on with Cole and Baird, and we flew off. We saved some gears from brumaks, and we were flying to the surface when. that freaky locust guy appeared again on that monster reaver. We fought it off, and made it to the surface, and fought through some more reaver guys, and then, that monster reaver and that freaky guy again showed up, bursting through the ground. We fought him, and killed that monster reaver, and he fell to the ground, and died. We turned up at Jacinto, and met you guys. That's my story." Carmine finished his story and said: "Ma'am, it's your turn now."

Priscilla said: "I was born in Montevado before E-day. My family wasn't rich. My dad was a drunkard who barely kept his factory job, and my mom, to support us, was a streetwalker. One day, when I was seven, I saw my mother's dead body in an ally on the way to school. She had been murdered. I spent the next seven years biding my time, waiting for her killer to show himself. When he did, I killed him in revenge for my mother. I joined the army when I was in my late teens to get out of that life. I served first in Echo Three as its NCO. I was called by Hoffman to join this squad when it was formed, when Hoffman called us up to command, and made me the leader." Suddenly, Gordon, Irene, and Noel understood why Priscilla flew into that rage when Mathew called them whores, why she was such a firebrand, and why she was so tough. She paused, and then said: "Well, Gordon, tell us your story." The others nodded in agreement.

Suppressing trepidation, he began: "I was born two years before emergence day in Ephyra. I don't really remember much, except that I was, different. A lot of my childhood was pent being misunderstood, alienated, and bullied. When the locusts attacked my school two years ago, I fought back, killing a drove and a bolter, but then, a cyclops chainsawed me, but I was saved by a gear interrupting it. I was rescued and taken to Jacinto, where I was hospitalized. Upon awakening, I grieved for what had happened, but I quickly regained by rationality. I decided on joining the army as the best option available to me. Training was really rough, but I made it as the best pistol shot in the class. I was assigned to squad Alpha 15. I saw regular combat, and during the lightmass offensive, I was on a chopper heading towards East Barricade Academy, only an hour after Delta Squad, when it was forced to crash down near the conservatory by a brumak, and machinegun fire. I rolled off it, and landed on a roof. I stood up and killed the troika gunner. Then, I fought against a battalion of locust, killing all of them, and the brumak. I was rescued by a chopper carrying Major Anton, who nominated me for an Embry Star, and I was hospitalized for injuries. When I was released, I was decorated Major Anton, and was then moved to Pi Squad as a "hoplite." I was given special armor, helmet, and shield. I used the boltok pistol I had taken off of a grenadier I had slain at East Barricade, and I was quickly the best pistoleer in the unit. I served a brief stint with Delta after coming to their rescue at the Lamertza Arms Production Facility. It was actually Dom who requested my transfer into the squad to Colonel Hoffman himself. I met Hoffman at the facility, and he congratulated me on my actions, and then he offered me a transfer to Delta, which I accepted. He also informed me that I would receive the Steel Gear medal for my actions. Anyways, the day I was decorated was the day that I was called into command by a runner and placed under your leadership, Priscilla. We trained the next day, and the day after that, we prepared the staging area for the Landown offensive-"

"Gordon, why are you telling us this?" interjected Noel.

"Because Carmine doesn't know this stuff." he rebuked. "Anyways, we fought against a swarm of wretches, a swarm of reavers, and we killed a corpser. In the afternoon, an APC was dropped off to us, and we drove back to base. We relaxed a bit, then did some celebrating for the successful op. We took the next day off, I got my torque bow. The day after that, we were going to do a war game with Mu Squad when we were interrupted by Anya announcing the start of the attack on Jacinto. We quickly made it to command and assumed defensive positions. Priscilla rallied the troops, we met Delta, we fought our way to the helipads, and then we escaped with you. The rest is history." With that, Gordon concluded his story. Noel raised a question.

"Wait, if you were born two years before emergency day, and we're fourteen years after emergence day, doesn't that mean that you're only sixteen?" She sounded worried.

"Yes it does." replied Gordon coldly. Everyone in the room looked shocked, and to save face, Irene feigned ignorance as well.

"Hold up." demanded Priscilla. "If you're sixteen, then how the hell did you get into the army at fourteen? Wouldn't someone have stopped you? Wouldn't you have washed out of training?"

"It wasn't hard to join the army. All I had to do with voice act to sound older. They're not exactly running quality control checks on the fresh meat supply here. They need all the soldiers they can get, and they aren't really checking to keep minors out of the military. I did have a hellish time in basic training. The drill sergeants were extremely harsh on me, especially Marko. I seriously considered killing him, but I decided against it on the basis of survivalistic pragmatism. He even went so far as to call me the most pathetic recruit since Anniston. Anyways, I graduated middle of my class, and the best pistol shot since emergence day."

"But why did you join the army?" inquired Noel, mystified. "You shouldn't have done it; you're still just a kid. Kids don't belong in the military."

"I joined the army because it was the best choice I had. I had no relatives to take care of me, I wasn't going to go into foster care, and be abused by an endless string of people. I rejected the idea of a life on the streets, because I'm not good at social interaction, and I would definitely have been killed. I debated between joining the stranded and joining the army. I ultimately decided on the army because both would result in me having to fight against the locust, but the army would give me a better life, ad a better chance of survival, so I picked army.'

Carmine asked him a question: "Doesn't somebody know that you're not old enough to be in the army?"

Gordon paused, formulating his response. He told the whole truth: "Colonel Hoffman and Chairman Prescott do; Hoffman knew my brother, Minh, and Prescott is in close confidence to him. Does anybody else have any more questions?

"I do." said Irene. "Why didn't you tell us that you were only sixteen?" She was being completely genuine and sincere about knowing the reason for his secrecy.

"I kept it secret," began Gordon, "because if the news leaked out to the wrong people, Prescott and Hoffman would be in a lot of trouble. Even though they would probably win in court, the public opinion would radically turn against them, and such an upheaval would weaken the COG, probably to the point at which it would be too weak to continue, and thus, we would lose the war. I trust all of you to keep this secret under the comradeship we share. Will you keep my secret?"

They all responded: "Yes, we will, Gordon."

"And one more thing." he said. "I'm chronologically a kid, but, mentally, I'm a man. I grew up in boot camp, so please, don't treat me like a kid, and don't call me that either; any final questions?" Noel raised her hand. "What is it, Noel?"

"Are you a Pesang, because you look Pesang."

"Yes, I am ancestrally, a Pesang. Why do you ask?"

"Because you have blond hair; I've never seen a naturally blond Pesang."

"I assure you, Noel, that I'm naturally blond. It's not due to hair dye, it's not a wig; it's my real hair. Give it a tug."

"Okay." she said and walked across the room. She grabbed a patch of his hair around his forehead and pulled. Gordon winced in pain, and a few yellow hairs came out. Noel looked shocked.

"I told you." said Gordon confidently. "It's a genetic anomaly. Don't worry, I'm not insulted, and I've actually made a huge amount of money by betting with drunks that that is my real hair, and it's always worth a few good laughs when three guys in a row lose that bet with me. The only person to ever really take a strong disliking to it was Sergeant Tiger. He actually hated it and me so much that he personally shaved me bald." Gordon was trying not to burst out laughing. "You should've seen his face when it grew back as blond as before! He tried to get me ejected from the army for not conforming to the dress code!" At this, he could no longer control himself, and laughed raucously, and the others joined in. When the humor had passed, Gordon made his bed. He decided that he'd go looking through the rest of the facility tomorrow, until then, he could rest. Tired, Gordo laid back, shut his eyes, and went to sleep.


	13. Unpleasant Discoveries

Phalanx 13: Unpleasant Discoveries

Gordon was scraping the bottom of the pot. Their food supplies had finally run low after weeks of residing at New Hope. His comrades had already eaten. With a final scrape of the ladle, he emptied the pot of miso soup. He sat back on a stool and ate in peace. It had been six weeks since he had arrived at the facility. Carmine was back up on his feet fully, and Dizzy had been taking time to teach the kid. He himself had met Sam and Mick three days after their arrival. He remembered what had happened.

Gordon had been training by himself when men he had never seen before appeared behind him. He saw them in the mirror and turned to meet them. "Hello." he said.

"Hello." they said back. An awkward silence ensued, until they asked: "Are you Gordon?"

"Yes, I'm Gordon. And I amuse that you're Sam and Mick."

"Yep." they said. One of them was extremely darkly tanned, and the other was pale and freckled.

Gordon asked the pair: "Which one of you is Sam and which one of you is Mick?"

The tanned one with a curly mop of black hair said: "I'm Sam. Rank: Private."

"So I guess that makes you Mick." said Gordon pointing to the ginger one.

"Yes it does. I'm a First Lieutenant.' The man answered. Despite his frail appearance, he had a Gnasher Shotgun. Gordon looked to Sam. He had an older style hammerburst; it fired six rounds for each pull of the trigger. Sam was wearing lighter reconnaissance armor, and Mick wore heavier blue-green armor, similar to Marcus's. Neither of them wore helmets, instead opting for hats. On Sam was a wide brimmed sunhat. On top of Mick's head was a cerulean beret; a symbol of the commandos.

They conversed for the next hour, and Gordon found out that they were indeed cousins through their mothers. They trained for a bit with Gordon, until they explained that they had to get back on their patrol routes. They headed out the door, and he didn't see them again until breakfast six days later. In the present, Gordon went back to the infirmary to check on Noel. He found her taking her cast off. "Oh, hi Gordon," she said. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm fine, Noel. Happy to get that cast off?"

"Yeah." she said. "I haven't been able to do anything for ages."

"What do you mean by ages?" he asked skeptically. "It's only been six weeks

"Really?" she asked. "I thought it was longer than that. Being stuck in a room by yourself with nothing to do, no one to talk to. It does funny things with your perception of time."

"I know; I've been in the same situation myself."

"Why, what happened?"" She asked eagerly.

Gordon answered: "Well, I was a rookie, fresh out of the Academy. It was my first mission. I was with Sergeant Tiger when it happened. We were patrolling the outskirts of Jacinto, and we were attacked by a group of drones. I got up on top of warehouse and provided covering fire with my lancer. We were winning, when a group of wretches got me. I fought them off, but this one wretch hurled itself at me, and I fell off the roof. It broke all my ribs. Sergeant Tiger got the thing off me, and immediately gave me a chewing out. I hadn't done anything wrong, but he was still convinced that it was my fault and that I deserved it for disobeying orders. He didn't give us any orders. He just told us to take cover. All the cover was taken, so I had to get up on the roof, and I provided covering fire. I scored my first kill; a bolter. The other guys in my squad actually said that I did well. I spent the next month in the hospital, and when I got out, I was luckily placed in a different unit."

"Ouch, that must have hurt." said Noel. "I guess I just need to be positive. No offense to the man, but, that Sergeant Tiger person sounds like a total dick. You were really hurt and all he did was kick your ass. He was right though, it was your fault." Gordon scowled.

"Noel." explained Gordon. "After the raven crash, I was unhurt, and you were incapacitated. It was a matter of luck. Saying that I was injured because I decided to go get hurt is like saying that you broke your leg because you wanted to."

Stung, Noel spat back: "You didn't have to go onto that roof. I'm sorry that you got hurt, but it's your fault that you were on that roof!" Gordon gave up; he couldn't persuade Noel.

"I'm not going to bother fighting back." declared Gordon. "I'm going to report to Priscilla. You should too; you need to get back in the rhythm of things and you need to exercise that leg of yours; the last thing you want is for your muscles to atrophy."

"Fine, let's go." she sulked. They walked to Iota's bunks, where they found Priscilla and Carmine doing much more than discussing tactics. Noel tried to burst in on them, but Gordon held her back.

"Don't!" he urged. "Let them have their privacy." She consented. Gordon watched as the pair leaned on each other's shoulders. Both of them were fully armored, and from what Gordon concluded, the pair had been gradually coming together since they were evacuated from Jacinto. Over the last four weeks, Priscilla had been doing a lot more solitary things with Carmine. It at first hadn't been much, only starting four weeks ago on a mapping walk around the exterior. These one on one sessions had been occurring increasingly often, and were growing longer. There was no denying the attraction between them. After fifteen more minutes of snuggling, Carmine and Priscilla broke apart. They had a brief word, and then Carmine approached the door. Gordon hid in a closet, and Noel leaned against the wall.

The rookie came out in high spirits and started off towards Kappa Squad's quarters, probably looking for Dizzy. Gordon waited in the closet, not wanting to intrude on the afterglow. He entered the room ten minutes later. "Ma'am, Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim reporting for duty." he saluted.

"At ease." she said, in a considerably lighter mood than normal. "Is Noel's cast off yet?"

"Affirmative, Ma'am. She is up and walking"

"That's good. Gordon, I want you to take the Sergeant into a currently unknown part of the facility. Your task is to find anything of use."

"Should I bring anything, Lieutenant?"

"Take your revolver, just to be safe."

"Understood, Ma'am." said Gordon.

"Dismissed." she ordered, and he exited the room. He turned left to find Noel facing him.

"Noel." he said. "Priscilla's given us an assignment. Go get your Lancer; I'll brief you on the way." The bigger weapons were stored in a closet which Carmine had converted into an armory. Gordon waited on the outside while Noel got her Lancer and Snub. They were already armored, and Gordon was carrying only his sword and his Boltok.

"Ready." she said. Gordon led her to the door. It was one of the many doors that they had never opened. It was boarded up, like so many others. In truth, none of the Gears, or the Marine had even seen half of the facility. Most of the doors were boarded up, or sealed in some other manner. The doors that were open formed a more or less direct path from the entrance, to the atrium, through the overlook, through all the weird security halls, the chambers filled with broken stasis tanks, through a few more narrow hallways, then to the trainyard out back, and finally, back to the entrance.

They arrived at their destination and checked their weapons. Gordon motioned for a hesitant Noel to saw through the obstructive planks. She did, with a loud noise and a scattering of debris. Footsteps behind them echoed, and before Gordon could react, Sam and Mick had their guns pointed right at them! "We're just going on a scouting trip for Lieutenant Priscilla."

"Okay, sorry." said the cousins, and they walked off. Noel opened the door gradually, and Gordon covered her with his gun. In front of them was a long, dark hallway with a comparatively high ceiling. Gordon shut the door behind them and they continued. Something about this area gave him an unpleasant vibe. As they went deeper in, Gordon began to notice something about this part of the facility. There was an uncertain stench about it. He couldn't identify it, but it unsettled him, as if he were walking towards a seeder or a berserker.

At the end of the hall, they were faced with a set of three large doors. They weren't sealed over, but there was an effort made to jam them shut. It was as if something nasty had gotten loose and that it had been hastily barricaded in to keep it from escaping. The other sealed doors that Gordon had opened, there had been nothing like this. The front door to those dungeons was simply covered in sheet metal, but here, the doors were really stuck shut. Their hinges had been soldered over, as well as barred with section of what used to be a railroad track. Only the middle of the three doors was blocked like this. The others were simply locked and had their knobs welded to their frames by solder "What could've caused whoever these people were to do this?" Wondered Noel out loud.

"I have no idea." remarked Gordon honestly. "Remember that we've only seen maybe a quarter of this facility. There's a lot of questions, and no answers. I personally think that we don't have too much to fear so long as we don't go through the middle one. If that's the one that they barricade, then chances are that whatever it was that went postal and caused them to close up shop in this area."

"Do you think it could have been the grubs?"

"No, the probability of locust involvement is almost at zero. If it was the grubs, they would've gotten through. Really, nothing short of miles of Granite will stop them. May we proceed with the assignment?"

"Go ahead, Gordon. Silly me, getting off task; I shouldn't be so absentminded."

Noel gestured to the door on the left and Gordon gripped it hard in his hands and gave it a sudden, hard twist. The solder broke, but the lock was undamaged. Gently, Gordon inserted a long, thin strip of metal into the lock. He turned it, and the bolt released. Gordon cautiously opened the door under Noel's protection.

They stepped inside and found themselves inside a utility room. The stench was weaker in here; good. Pipes and wiring ran all over the room. Strangely, the room was in considerably better care than the rest of the facility that they had seen so far. Drawing his sword, Gordon held point. The floor was bare, dull gray concrete, and the walls were made of plain cement blocks. Gordon cast a glance down a side passage to his left. All he saw was a hot water heater and a sump pump. He drew back and blazed forwards along the main path. In the next room, there was a circuit breaker, and a generator with a control console on the right wall. The only light in the entire branch came from a few fluorescent tubes on the ceilings, casting the area in a gloomy glow.

Gordon contemplated the electric console, and asked Noel: "Sargess, should I turn on the generator, or check the circuit breaker?"

"Um, check the circuit breaker," said Noel. "And try and see if you can get the lights on." Gordon nodded and opened the front panel. Gordon was surprised at the complexity of the device. There were rows and columns of tightly clustered switches, all of which were in the off position. Gordon flipped a switch labeled: Sector B lighting. He flipped it on; nothing happened. He cast a glance at Noel.

"Okay, you can turn on the generator." she consented. Gordon walked over to the console and pressed the power button. With a noise, the generator spun into life. The lights all came on, and the pair of them shielded themselves from the brightness.

Gordo saw the room illuminated. To the left of the console, he noticed a notebook. Picking it up, he opened to the front page. "Gordon, what are you reading?"

"It's some kind of notebook. Perhaps this will contain some answers." Gordon resumed reading. Noel tried to interrupt, but he raised his hand at her. The ink was relatively old, and the pages were slightly moldy. There were fourteen journal entries, each spaced a month apart. He flipped to the last one, and read the text.

"Sector B Chief Technician Log number fourteen.

This is my final log here. Some of the specimens here have gone out of control. They're vicious, conniving, and strong. Last week, one of them hurled a medical examiner six feet into a wall. The subject was sedated and returned to stasis. Unfortunately, the examiner suffered a serious concussion, a broken humerus, and lacerations to his torso and abdomen. He spent the next three days on life support in a coma. I am heavily concerned with the security of the specimens. They're getting smarter. It's only a matter of time until they get totally out of control. My requests for the allocation of armaments to sector B have been denied. These things aren't like those Sires over in Sector A. Compared to them, the Sires are pussycats. The children here are also getting worse. They're becoming more violent, stronger, and more unpredictable. They're absolutely relentless. One of them got loose, and with a section of pipe attacked Jones the repairman while he was replacing a frayed wire. By the time a security team arrived, Jones was unconscious. The child charged at the security team, right into pistol fire. Its arm was blown off and it suffered a broken leg. It was restrained by the security officers, but continued to struggle violently with enough force to send a one hundred eighty pound man head over heels. It was eventually subdued and recaptured following a large dose of Sodium pentothal. The dosage was three times the lethal amount for an average human, but it was not rendered sedate until after five minutes during which it managed to injure three guards. Mr. Jones was hospitalized with a broken sternum, seven cracked ribs, and a clavicle with several compound fractures. The injured security personnel suffered relatively minor injuries, with the most severe being a badly sprained elbow and a broken nose. I'm getting out of here as soon as I can. This research is important, but it's not worth dying for. The personnel are becoming nervous and hostile. Yesterday, my bunkmate snapped at me for just looking weird. I don't know how much longer we can keep this up. The personnel are doing sixteen hour shifts. I don't know what Niles is thinking. He's so wrapped up with the Sires. It's like what's going down over here doesn't matter. Not even with recent events are we getting any attention. I don't know what command is thinking. I know that there's a war going on, and that the military needs all the support it can get, but it can't be too much to ask for a few gnashers. If we could at least get some pikeman rifles. No one's using them anymore, and there's lot of ammo to go around, and we need to be able to defend ourselves from these things. I'd buy some myself, but there's nobody else for a hundred miles. Anyways, I'm going to put in for a transfer tomorrow, and hope to god that I get out of here soon."

Gordon closed the notebook and took it off the shelf. "What did it say?" asked Noel.

"A lot; most of it's pretty nasty stuff. We need to get this to Priscilla, but first, we've got to check the door on the left."

"Then let's get to it." said Noel. Gordon followed her back to the atrium. She covered Gordon with her lancer again while he opened the door. Once he opened it, he was greeted with shelves of notebooks and computer banks. Gordon immediately recognized it as a kind of library containing information about the facility.

He turned to Noel and said: "Let's get out of here and report to Priscilla." She nodded and they walked to the overlook, which Priscilla had converted into a command post. Gordon and Noel saluted and he gave her the notebook.

"What are your findings?" she inquired.

Gordon gave the report: "Ma'am, we gained entrance to a previously unexplored part of the facility. Inside, we found a kind of atrium with three doors at the end. The central door was heavily barred, but we opened the other two. In the left side door, we found a utility room, a generator, and a notebook which I gave to you, Ma'am. Through the right side door, we found a kind of library that contains a wealth of information about the facility. Based on the information we have gathered, we have come to the conclusion that the central door should not be unlocked for reasons contained within the notebook. That is all the information we have, Ma'am."

Priscilla looked intrigued, but said: "You did well. Your discovery of valuable intelligence is highly important. Dismissed." With that having been said, Gordon and Noel returned their guns to the weapons locker, the she went off, probably looking for Tom while he returned to his quarters and waited. There wasn't much to do; it was too late in the afternoon to go on any more assignments, and he couldn't really cook; all the food they had was just canned vegetables stored in a pantry. He mathematically estimated that at the current rate of consumption that the food stores would last for another two weeks, but with the strict rationing that had been put in place, the mountain of cans would last for another month. Anya had contacted them yesterday about being able to fly some supplies in for them. Judging by the sound of her voice, she was working around the clock and possibly hadn't slept in days. For a moment, he felt pity for Anya. She was working nonstop, and by comparison, they had it easy; not having to do anything other than hold their position.

Gordon saw Irene at dinner. Hey day hadn't been anywhere nearly as exciting. She had gone onto the roof of the facility and scanned the horizon with her sniper rifle for six hours. When she asked him what he had done, he just answered her confidently: "Wait and see." Carmine had spent most of the day on perimeter patrol with Dizzy, and Priscilla hadn't done much asides go through the journals. After dinner, Sam got KP and the rest of them returned to their barracks, where Priscilla gave them a debriefing.

"Iota Squad, today, several important documents came to light due to the efforts of Noel and Gordon. They found a series of journals containing information about the facility and what went wrong, as well as the existence of a second area of New Hope. Tomorrow, we will receive more supplies; food, ammunition, medicine, and cleaning kits. Iota Squad, dismissed!" She sat down on her bunk and removed her armor.

Gordon alerted Irene: "I'm going to spend the night in my den; tell them that if anyone asks, and I'll see you in the morning."

"Night Gordon," she said. With that, she took her place on her bunk and Gordon went to his area. In peace, he stretched out and removed his armor, laying it next to him as he lay down. He took his sword in his hand, shut his eyes and fell asleep. The vital supplies would arrive tomorrow, and he didn't know just how much more vital they would become.


	14. Bad News

Phalanx 14: Bad News

Gordon awoke, feeling achy are cold. He armed and armored himself and stood at the entrance flap. In front of him, was a thin layer of snow. Taking a mental note to clear it away later, Gordon marched down to the kitchen and caught a quick breakfast; he'd need to get in on today's briefing.

His squad was already suited up and standing at attention. He took his place in line as Priscilla took roll call. "Name yourselves, begin!"

"Private First Class Zoey Hannah Irene, Ma'am!"

"Private Benjamin Carmine, Ma'am!"

"Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim, Ma'am!"

"Sergeant Bianca Noel Rider, Ma'am!"

"This is Lieutenant Priscilla Camilla Dally. Today, at 0730 hours, a King Raven carrying supplies is scheduled to arrive at the front courtyard. The supplies consist of ammunition, food, and medical supplies. Am I understood?"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

"Then move out!" They marched in line towards the front courtyard. Priscilla looked at her watch. "Supplies are due to arrive in ten minutes." Then Priscilla gave instructions. "Here's the plan: Irene, Carmine, you take the crate when it drops. Use these flares," she said, pulling out four orange incendiaries and a single white one. The two of them nodded and she handed Irene the flares.

"Gordon, you watch those two; they're your responsibility. Make sure they get this right. Noel, when the supplies arrive, take inventory of the contents. I will keep in contact with the crew. Let's go." The five of them leapt to their tasks. Gordon found a suitable are and instructed Carmine and Irene where to place the flares. The gears lit them on his command and they waited. Priscilla stayed on the radio, keeping in contact with the pilot and filling Noel in on the details of the shipment. The sergeant was recording the items on a piece of paper.

After a while, they heard the approaching beating of rotor blades. The helicopter approached from the front gate of the facility, with a large crate dangling beneath it. Gordon heard Priscilla say: "Copy that, Iota out." The King raven hovered over the flares, and a winch lowered the cargo, right over the white flare, which Carmine kicked away before the load dropped down.

A rope fell from the helicopter and down slid a gear in strange armor. Priscilla didn't looked surprised and said: "Wait here. Carmine, go get Tom out here."

"Yes Ma'am!" he chirped and ran into the facility. Gordon guessed that this man was from the Marines. He noticed that Noel looked slightly sad as she continued taking inventory of the merchandise. When Tom appeared, he was fully armored and armed. He walked casually behind Carmine towards the helicopter. The man told Tom something, and the latter briefly kissed Noel before climbing the rope onto the helicopter, and was shortly followed by the man.

Then, the helicopter flew off, the noise of its rotors fading into silence. They broke apart the large crate into multiple boxes and began carrying them inside. Presently, a voice came in over the radio.

"Iota, this is KR 7-6. Unknown infantry spotted on north side of facility."

"Are they COG?" asked Priscilla, reaching for her machine pistol.

"Negative; confirmed sighting of bloodmounts."

"What's the ETA?"

"Twenty minutes to an hour."

"And their numbers?"

"Can't say. There's at least a dozen down there."

"Can you provide fire support?"

"Negative; we got priority one orders to retrieve Delta Squad and return to base ASAP. Sorry. Good luck Iota, KR 7-6 out."

"Understood, preparing whoopass. Iota out." Priscilla turned and addressed them: "Listen up, Iota! Noel, alert Kappa Squad and get them over to the east gate, pronto! Consider that your standing order. The rest of us will hold here! Move out!" Gordon became nervous. Carmine took a pair of frag grenades and tagged the gate with them before climbing on top of a sheet metal roof. He lay prone and took out his sniper rifle.

Being left handed, Gordon took the right side of the phalanx. Priscilla formed the middle, and Irene was on the right. Soon, they heard roaring. Gordon's grip tightened on his boltok. Irene took her Gorgon's safety off, and Priscilla muttered something.

A beeping, then a bang erupted from the left side of the gate. One of Carmine's frag mines exploded, blowing out the lead bloodmount's left flank. The rider was flung from his mount, and landed on the ground, snapping his neck. A loud boomer's roar erupted from beyond the gate, and a mauler, exposing itself charged for them, but Carmine's second mine exploded, blowing off its leg. They watched while it helplessly squirmed on the ground, dying in a pool of its own blood.

Then, without warning, a wave of three bloodmounts charged through the gate. Immediately, Iota opened fire. The first wave fell without advancing ten yards. The three of them reloaded as Carmine finished off the riders with his lancer.

Next, a final bloodmount came dashing through the gate at full speed. At the same time, a score of locusts vaulted over the walls and opened fire!

The bullets impacted Iota's shields', forcing them back. A round grazed Gordon's face and took out a patch of skin. He winced in pain and saw the offender: a cyclops. Angry, Gordon brought his weapon to bear on the locust's head and pulled the trigger. Its head exploded, dropping it to the ground instantly.

"Boomer!" shouted Carmine. An RPG sailed into his perch's support column and the awning collapsed! Carmine tumbled to the ground and landed on his front.

"Carmine!" yelled Priscilla, taking frags in hand. The young gear pulled himself up and took cover behind a concrete barrier. Then, a grenadier's shotgun blasted him. He collapsed to the ground.

Priscilla primed the frags and tossed all three of them at the gate. "Take this you mother fuckers!" she screamed. "Cover me!" The negress broke the phalanx, drawing her scorcher and ran for Carmine.

Gordon drew up next to Irene, pressing each other shoulder to shoulder. Irene reloaded her Gorgon and fired three bursts at an advancing grenadier, blowing its knee out. She took aim and finished it off with a last burst, and noticed a scream next to her.

"Get it off me!" yelled Gordon. A wretch had pounced him, and was tearing at his throat. The redhead raised her boot and kicked the beast. The boot connected and she felt several ribs crack. Gordon said thanks and got back up.

Priscilla held Carmine close. He was in a daze. The pellets hadn't breached his armor, but they had impacted his helmet. He was barely coherent, and couldn't stand. Priscilla incinerated a bolter and reverted to her training. She grabbed Carmine by the armpits and dragged him on his back towards Gordon and Irene. The young private drew his pistol and opened fire upon an advancing trio of drones, resulting in only four hits. "They got him hard." she breathed, her voice thick with worry.

A rough boot connected with her sides, and she fell over in pain. "Help me!" gasped Priscilla. A brigadier was about to bring his foot crashing down through her skull! Terrified, Priscilla shut her eyes and waited for the end, but it never came.

"Get away from her, you sick fuck!" shouted a voice, and Carmine moved. She heard a chainsaw revv and she opened her eyes. Carmine had dropped the grenadier onto its back and revved his lancer's chainsaw. With a shout, he shoved the blade into the Grenadier's chest. The locust convulsed and twisted with blood spewing from its wound. Carmine tore open its chest, and clumsily reached down to help her.

Carmine tried to dash back to the entrance, but stumbled, wobbling on his trembling legs. Prsicilla drew her pistol and put her arm around his shoulder, walking him back. He shook with every step. The gunfire was becoming thinner. They were climbing up the nonfunctioning freight elevator, then Carmine suddenly collapsed!

Priscilla caught him and shouted to Irene: "Help me get him out of here!" The redhead grabbed his feet and they carried him back into the facility, leaving Gordon alone. The young gear fired his last round. The projectile zoomed through the air and tore through a drone's neck, killing it. Lowering his revolver, Gordon drew his sword.

"Get me if you can." he challenged the three remaining locusts: a drone, a grenadier and a bolter. The bolter ran at him. Casually, he caught the locust on the point, slipping through the ribs, and sprinkling him with blood. Gordon tugged the sword from his fallen enemy and raised his shield.

The two remaining enemies fired on him, but he caught the rounds on his shield. As soon as they started to reload, Gordon ran at the grenadier, taking a leaping slash at its neck! The blade connected and sliced the head off, and a force struck Gordon's side like a hammer.

He rolled sideways, distancing himself from his enemy and avoiding smacking his head on the pavement. Gordon rose like a spring and charged the drone, shielding himself from the deadly bullets. He ploughed into the drone, sending it sprawling to the ground and finished it with a stab through the heart. He looked up, and to his horror, he saw a pair of therons entering the facility.

With deft hands, Gordon drew an arrow and readied his torque bow. He advanced upon the pair and let the arrow fly. The projectile stuck into the atlas vertebrae and it dropped down. The second theron wheeled around to face him. Then Gordon saw the truth: It was a grenadier in maroon armor, with a nasty looking pistol and a barbed wire whip!

With a roar, the drone slung its whip at Gordon. Gordon raised his sword to block, and it coiled around the blade. With a strong tug, the sword was wrenched from his grasp and Gordon drew his torque bow. The drone snapped the whip and made another swipe at him. He ducked under it, trying to get closer. The drone lunged and swung the weapon at his neck. Gordon tried to shield, but he was too slow! The barbs sank into his skin and coiled around his throat!

Out of options, Gordon ran headlong at the drone, removing tension from the whip. He brought his bow's blades whistling through the air, slicing off its right hand! He kicked the drone in the guts, and it stumbled over. Reaching up, Gordon quickly uncoiled the whip from his throat and moved to finish off the done, which had gotten back up and readied its pistol.

His enemy pointed the pistol at him and fired. The rounds clanged and dented his armor, some burrowing through. Gordon, being filled with adrenaline, charged through the gunfire and rammed one of the bow arms into the drone's guts. The point burst through the leathery hide and tore through the organs. With a kick, Gordon knocked it to the ground and stomped it on the nose, sending the bone tearing through its brain. After this last foe was dispatched, he collected and sheathed his sword.

Suddenly, Gordon was struck with fatigue and pain. The holes in his neck stung and bled horribly. His chest was filled with uncomfortable objects embedded into his flesh. He hadn't noticed the damage.

Wearily, he dragged himself into the facility and sought his comrades. They were as shaken as he was, and Sam and Mick took over security. Over the next hour, Gordon was forced to patrol the outside to confirm the security of their area. Having done that, he slipped away to tend to his wounds.

Firstly, he took off his cuirass, revealing a series of four wounds on his chest. The worst of them was stuck into his skin right over his sternum, and they hurt like hell. Twisting up his fingers, Gordon removed the projectiles from him. Luckily, most of them were stuck in his armor, which was thicker than standard armor. He took note of the projectiles and pondered their characteristics.

They were thin, sharp, and small; more like flechettes than bullets; probably only thirty caliber. Based off of what he remembered from ballistics class, they were probably intended to be used against soft fleshy targets and to shred the organs without exiting the body, thereby maximizing damage; highly unusual for locust firearms, which tended to be more like the bastard child of an executioner's ax and a twelve inch naval gun.

Gordon took his hand and subconsciously rubbed it over his body. It was adorned with scars and discolorations that made it look like the surface had been tattooed with an enormous black spider web made of strands ranging in size from mere hairs to eighth of an inch across, interrupted by the occasional discolored patch of skin. He put his hand to his face, feeling the recent wound. It had scabbed, and was more like a burn than a bullet. His face had no real scars on it. Although it looked cool to go into battle barefaced, and he had better peripheral vision, survival was worth being considered a rook; experienced gears didn't wear helmets. Some said that they had finally learned to stop being afraid of getting hurt. Gordon thought that it was because they wanted to stand out.

After putting his helmet and cuirass back on, Gordon went to check on his squad. For the most part, they were alright. Priscilla had lain Carmine on his back on top of a crate. She took removed his helmet and looked at his features. "His eyes are discolored; he's got a concussion." she said to him.

"Is he still out?"

"Yes, but I think he'll be alright." she answered somewhat nervously. This change in diction alerted Gordon to a serious concern for Carmine's wellbeing.

"Well, hopefully he'll come around soon. Where are Noel and Irene?"

"They're on patrol with Kappa. They should be coming back through the facility now."

"Permission to join them, Ma'am?"

"Granted." Gordon turned and left, but first, he gave her the strange pistol and a clip of ammunition. "This is a new locust weapon, Ma'am. It's some kind of pistol that's highly effective at piercing armor and I thought that it would be fitting to alert command to its existence."

"Will do, now go." He turned and left for real this time, taking only his sword, shield, and bow. He caught up with his squad at the stasis tanks. The six of them, seven including himself had weapons out and were on edge. Kappa, with the exceptions of Sam and Mick didn't look too banged up, so they most likely had seen almost nothing of the locust offensive. Dizzy, on the other hand, seemed to have gotten a pretty bad share of the action.

It turned out that Sam and Mick had known Priscilla for a number of years, ever since basic training. They had aroused her ire and didn't want a repeat performance. After a few sweeps around the facility, they found nothing and Mick, being the ranking officer, announced: "Area secure. Status: green."

The security status scale had five levels: blue, green, yellow, orange, and red, and they meant something like the following. Blue meant that the area was completely secure and had no risk of locust incursion. Green meant that the area was mostly secured but the locust might attack, which was just about everywhere. Yellow meant that the area was not very secure and a locust attack was a distinct possibility. Orange meant that an area was unsafe and a locust attack was imminent. Finally, red meant that an active engagement was taking place. Gordon thought that Mick's proclamation of green security was overly optimistic and that the situation was most likely orange, but trusted the more experienced gear's judgment; the foolish didn't live long.

Nevertheless, they spent the rest of the afternoon moving, dividing, and organizing the supplies. For dinner, they had a can of creamed corn. Afterwards, Priscilla gave them the debriefing: "Iota Squad, today we faced and successfully repelled a locust attack with no fatalities of our own. Despite injuries to ourselves, we are still combat effective. Gordon brought to light the development of a new locust pistol." She held aloft the weapon, which looked liked somewhat like a clothes iron. "Finally, contrary to the views of First Lieutenant Mick, I place this squad's alert status at yellow. As such, there will be constant patrols for the next thirty-six hours. Noel, Gordon, Irene, divvy up the pairs and get to it. Dismissed!"

Gordon had been hoping for sleep, but obeyed orders. He agreed to take the first night watch with Irene and the last night watch with Noel. He'd be relieved for some shuteye at around midnight. After gathering another full complement of rounds for his boltok and donning his helmet, Gordon set off with Irene on the first watch, and maybe would find time to discuss the day's events.

_  
Authors Notes

Sorry about the long drought. I just got he computer de-bugged and I am making up for lost time. I've got through chapter 15 finished and I'll give you chapter 16 in the next week.

The story is about to get a lot more serious, so watch out.


	15. Eerie Findings

Phalanx 15: Eerie Findings

Gordon awoke in the dim twilight of the barracks with Noel's face leaning over him. Her eyes were red and puffy and she sounded brittle as she called him to wakefulness. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Gordon rose, fully armed and armored. Priscilla had declared a yellow security state following yesterday's locust attacks. This meant that they had to be doing constant around the clock patrols. After a brief stretch, Gordon asked Noel: "What's the time?"

"Two 'o' six." she answered, looking at the clock on the wall. As she spoke, Irene crawled into bed for the first time all night. The redhead had been awake all night, taking the first two patrols with Gordon and later, Noel. Gordon watched her fall asleep, then said: "Let's get going. Is Kappa pitching in?"

She shook her head. 'Yes, they got patrols outside the walls." The pair began their route, at first heading to the overlook, along the main corridor through the facility.

"How many of them are out there?"

"Three; they've been doing three hour watches. Sam and Mick have been up pretty much all night." Her voice was slightly hoarse. After that, there was silence. Breakfast was the usual affair, save for Carmine taking an extra five minutes to arrive and Priscilla having an announcement that couldn't wait for their daily briefing.

"Iota Squad" she said, holding up the strange locust pistol. "After breakfast, report to Overlook Command Post immediately- no exceptions!" Fifteen minutes later, they were gathered at the overlook, presiding over the trainyard in full gear and sitting attentively looking at Priscilla, who was holding the strange pistol and giving them a good look at it while also sending a live feed to control.

The pistol was quite slender, even more so than the COG's stripped down police-issue snub pistols. The grip was at the very back of the weapon, angled at fifty-five degrees from the barrel. The barrel was made from a single tube of metal and was completely smoothbore, measuring eleven inches in length. It had a mere guiding rail on top for sighting, and the loading port at the rear of the weapon was extremely odd.

In accordance with standard procedure, Priscilla began: "Lieutenant Priscilla Camilla Dally, Iota Squad of COG Army under ranking commander Colonel Hoffman, serving under Chairman Richard Prescott. Date: The 16'th of January, 15 years after E-day at 0714 hours. Location: New Hope Research Facility Command Post Overlook. Attendees from left to right: Sergeant Bianca Noel Rider, Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim, Private Bejamin Carmine, and Private Zoey Hannah Irene. Purpose: the discovery of a new locust pistol and the discovery of a new locust melee weapon." She paused briefly before beginning her presentation in full.

"This is a new locust pistol that was discovered yesterday by Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim." Priscilla held the weapon up to the camera and held it high. Obviously, she had taken a good look at it. Pointing to the loading ports of its side, she said: "These ports can be operated ambidextrously, allowing for left-handed and right-handed operation. Priscilla pointed to the trigger. "There is no safety catch on the weapon. Instead the trigger has a long pull which brings the rounds into the firing chamber and fire the weapon."

Resting the pistol on the floor, Priscilla picked up the clip of the several small, pointy bullets and showed them to the camera and the squad. "These are bullets intended for the new pistol. They are of a low 32 caliber size, but are capable of penetrating armor, as discovered yesterday by Lance Corporal Gordon Iago Kim." Priscilla put down the pistol and picked up the whip.

"This is a locust barbed wire whip. It is made of steel cable with long barbs distrubted over the front seven-eighths of the weapon, itself measuring six feet long.. Its purpose is to disarm and kill COG soldiers in melee combat as a counter to the lancer's chainsaw bayonet. Priscilla gave it a few swings and called attention to a ball of spikes on the end. "These spikes are present to both increase the damage inflicted by blows and to better entrap the target's weapon. This is Lieutenant Priscilla Camilla Dally signing off." She reached over and turned off the video camera. Afterwards, Iota Squad resumed patrols with Irene and Noel.

Gordon was going about maintenance duty on the squad's weapons when Priscilla interrupted him. "Gordon." He jumped up, still holding the partially disassembled lancer.

"Ma'am!" he saluted.

"At ease." He dropped his arm.

"I'm looking for volunteers to deliver the video to command. The video feed was cut and intelligence is getting on my ass about wasting time. I managed to get Dizzy to volunteer, but I need someone from my squad to go."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I refuse. Requesting permission to make a suggestion, Ma'am."

"Granted."

"Ma'am, I suggest that you seek Noel for this mission. She seems like the type of person who would jump at the chance." Priscilla seemed to mull this.

She said: "I will look into that." With that, she turned and left, leaving Gordon to his task. Meanwhile, Dizzy was mounting up for the trek, topping off the APC's fuel tank and loading its machine guns with more ammo. After supper, he was approached by Priscilla, followed by Noel, who was carrying a satchel. The latter was well armed.

"Ma'am," he said.

"At ease." said the officer. "Sergeant Noel will accompany you to command. Your destination is four-hundred miles due west. Get moving." Noel walked passed him and ordered:

"Follow me." Dizzy followed her while she gave the briefing. "For the duration of the mission, I am in charge of you. You will obey all orders without question. You will give me your respect and you will be treated with respect. Do you understand?"

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am!" Dizzy followed her to the APC and climbed in after her. Dizzy got into the driver's seat. Noel took navigation and settled in. It was going to be a long trip. Dizzy drove out the front gate and oriented the vehicle in the right direction. However, the area was forested much too densely, impeding their progress.

"Dizzy," asked Noel. "Do you by chance know any locust tunnels that lead to where we're headed?"

"Nah, sorry, Ma'am."

"Never mind. Just take the first road we see." This made Noel nervous.

"Yes, Ma'am," he consented and backed up, turning onto the road. Noel stayed inside the APC, not wanting to risk exposure to sniper fire and monitoring navigation. The equipment displayed a convenient G.P.S. map of the local area in real time. It needed a jack bot to work fully and restore IFF capabilities to the display. Reasonably secure with their odds, Noel settled in for the trip.

Back at New Hope, Priscilla was rounding up the troops to go on another patrol. One group, consisting of her, Kyle, Irene, and Sam, and the other group consisted of Mick, Carmine, and Gordon. The first group took the call sign Luther-1 and the latter took the call sign Luther-2.

"Luther-1, this is Luther-2, do you copy, over?"

"Luther-2, this is Luther-1, we read you loud and clear, over."

"Luther-2, give us a status report, over."

"Luther-1, we are scouting near the southwest corner of the courtyard. Nothing's showing up on scopes. Can you reciprocate, over."

"Luther-2, we have entered the new section, over."

"Anything suspicious yet, Luther-2, over."

"Negative, Luther-1; we haven't seen anything here with more life than a cockroach. There are no signs of the Thicores. We're entering the main Beta area now." A chainsaw bayonet gave it's roar and Luther-2 heard the barriers come off. and a gunshot ring out.

Mick attempted to open the door to the Beta section, only to find the door be stuck by something very heavy. With effort from the team, they at last managed to open the thing. The first thing that they were greeted with was a terrible stench of mold, feces, and dead bodies. Stepping inside, Irene's boot landed on something moist and squishy. Irene looked down. "Eww." He had his boot on a rotten human arm and hastily took it off.

"Uhh, Lieutenant, said Irene slackly. "Don't look down." Despite the warning, Priscilla did, and found them all to be standing on a crowd of dead corpses, all crammed up against the door. Most of them looked eaten. Some of them were picked clean into bones. Behind them somewhat, lay a completely foreign looking body.

The anomaly has twisted, monstrous dark-gray, almost black skin, yellow eyes, and worst of all, several long, thin tentacles with what looked to be huge, crude stringers on the ends. The mouth was huge in comparison with size, and housed oversized canines, measuring five inches in length and a pair of lemon-sized swellings set into its upper gums. The thing must have been about seven feet tall and standing on two clawed feet. Even more frightening than this was the fact that it was covered in a multitude of wounds which would be considered severe, even by boomer standards. Sam looked at the spectacle until Priscilla snapped him out of it.

"Private Sam, Private Sam, snap out of it!" He looked up at her blankly. "Most of these bodies aren't very old; let's keep moving, Luther-1." She walked further back into the facility, reluctantly followed by her subordinates.

Over the radio, Gordon heard the sickening news and subconsciously tightened his left hand around the handle of his boltok revolver. Mick had point on the operation, and Carmine was in the middle, leaving him as caboose. Despite his injuries the previous day, the helmet had protected him well enough to let him sleep off the concussion in a single night. As Priscilla had remarked "The kid's tough."

Their team lined up, backs against the wall while Carmine went prone and stuck his rifle around the corner. He waved then on, prompting them to storm around the corner. You never lowered your guard on a patrol, even if things appeared calm. Especially if things remained calm, because the locusts could never wait to stuff a few more COG into coffins. Action was preferable to quiet, because once you started shooting grubs, things remained fairly straightforward, but if you didn't see the enemy first, you'd never have a chance. Kyle called it the 90/10 rule. 90% of people died by surprise in ambushes, while only 10% of people died in firefight. The individuals had chalked it up to different factors including luck, god, and life. Gordon just figured it to be that the locusts were mostly just disposable redshirts. Theron guard's didn't carelessly rush into gunfire, unlike drones, so the locusts had to be at least reasonably close to human intelligence, but just really dumb-as-dirt soldiers.

They repeated the procedure around the next corner and Carmine reported something: "Attention all: stranded in lot 6. There's two guys and a girl."

"Luther-2, Luther-1 advises that you maintain caution. Have they sighted you yet?"

"Negative, Luther-1. In fact, they just seem to be, standing there."

"Come again, Luther-2. What are they doing, over?"

"Luther-1, the stranded are just standing in the middle of the clearing. The tall one seems to be struggling with something on his face. The girl's just sitting down and crying about something, and the last one isn't even blinking, over.'

"Investigate." Cautiously, Luther-2 approached the oddly-behaving stranded. Gordon put his weapons away and waved to them.

"Hey, you!" he shouted. "What are you doing here?" The girl didn't stop rocking and crying and the other man turned, giving him a vacant look, while the tall guy turned, giving Gordon a glimpse of what was tormenting him. Gordon tried to parlay with the group while Carmine tried to radio the surreal situation back to the others.

"Luther-2, this is Luther-1. The stranded are unarmed. One individual is in pain. The other two are psychologically unavailable." He took a brief look at the man's glazed-over eyes that stared without seeing. "One's giving the thousand-yard stare. Another's got shell shock. Gordon is attempted to communicate with them"

"Who are you, what happened?" asked Gordon with concern. The tall stranded was the only one to respond. While clutching his cheek over a great black piece of necrotized flesh, he gasped strainedly: "We were with Bear's group, going into that building… looking for some medicine. Listen man, that place… ain't safe- there're these monsters, I don't know what they are." He took a deep breath, clenched, and continued. "The things are huge, and strong, and sneaky- really sneaky, like a cat." At this point, Kyle pressed him for more answers and abandoned all pretense of concern, Gordon watching the proceedings.

"Cut the shit and give us the skinny. What the hell were they?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit. Now tell us what happened." He reduced the callousness in his voice, instead flling it with a vaguely violent malice like that Sergeant Tiger would use before delivering a massive cluster f-bomb. He cast a fond glance to his chainsaw.

"I don't really fucking know." grunted the stranded, attempting to remain calm but starting to flow with tears. Asides from those two, everyone paid no heed to the proceedings.

Kyle blew his temper. "Bullshit! You saw something, now tell me what the fuck it was or I'll tear you a new asshole!"

The stranded broke down and cried. He continued between tears. "Here's what happened, you fascist pig!" Kyle struck with his boot. Gordon got ready to intervene in case if it got worse.

"Not cool, man!" said Carmine, shoving Kyle off the stranded. "It's okay, he's not going to hurt you. Just tell me what happened. If you do, we'll give you guys whatever supplies you need. Deal?"

"Deal.' While this was going on, Gordon was preoccupied with keeping Kyle of the stranded, explaining that beating the shit out of him was liable to make him curl into an incoherent ball. The radio being on, Priscilla heard the proceedings. When she heard Carmine give his offer of supplies, she facepalmed.

"We don't have a lot here, Carmine." She growled this while scanning a central plaza area that was at least half-sunken into the ground. She had her eyes fixed on a row of empty stasis tanks, which were in varying degrees of dilapidation. A few of them appeared just old and grimy. However, the majority at least had large, jagged holes where she assumed something had escaped and a certain few had been completely destroyed.

Irene wordlessly bent down to examine the shards. She noticed the lack of fine grit. "Ma'am, these aren't new." There was a bad feeling in her gut that was making her almost physically ill. "I think we should come back later."

"I'll take that under advisement." growled Priscilla absentmindedly, surveying the ground for tracks. On the floor, there were spots where plaster had fallen from the ceiling. After a brief internal game of eeny-meeny-miney-moe, Priscilla led Luther-1 into another corridor, opening up into a maintenance access hatch. She stuck her head through the opening and found the skeleton of a man holding an ancient weapon. She grasped the rifle by the barrel and pulled it into the better light of the passage.

A cursory inspection piqued her curiosity. "An old Pikeman rifle- and it's in good condition." She paused for a moment and noticed something that smelled horribly, like rotting seeder covered in guts. Absentmindedly, her fingers brushed the trigger guard and felt something wet, sticky, and squishy: decaying flesh. Disgusted, she wiped the handle clean and handed it to Irene, who grimaced.

"Yuck!" she squealed girlishly. Kyle gave a brief snort. On the surface, Luther-2 had the whole story, and was radioing Priscilla. The stranded had been placed under armed guard for escort when Gordon heard the part about the pile of corpses.

Immediately, images flashed across his mind; Memories from years ago: a bolter, a file, and a hammer. They weren't properly in his vision. Instead, they seemed to zoom around his subconscious, just beneath his perception. He could hear and see everything in the real world, but those images wouldn't leave his mind. He was snapped out of it by Irene's voice. "You alright, Gordon? You haven't said anything."

It took him a moment to respond, finding himself 500 yards away and watching the rear of their stranded prisoner column. "Um- uh, yeah I'm good. Sorry, I guess I zoned out there. I'll see you tonight Irene." With that, he ended the conversation without revealing anything. He didn't want to worry her, not when things were already of the edge of being absolutely FUBAR.

The rest of the day went by in long stretches of awareness punctuated by occasional periods of spaciness when standing around. That night at supper, Gordon caught up on the day's events with his squadmates. He acted automatically, his mind being currently elsewhere, trying to keep something that was just out of his awareness from entering it. Curiosity getting the better of him, Gordon tried to uncover what it was, but every cognitive grab made for the murky mysteries only made them murkier. Ultimately, he could remember fewer than ten words from that meal. However, he was in full charge of his faculties for when Priscilla gave her daily debriefing.

"Iota Squad," she customarily began. "Today, with Kappa Squad, we explored the second section of the facility. We uncovered several remains and several mismatched firearms, likely from a stranded party. Nothing of note was found, save for several large broken stasis tanks." She continued on, but Carmine noticed something in her voice.

_She's worried!_ The thought struck him hard. If something could scare Priscilla just by existing, then it had to be absolutely nightmare fuel incarnate.

"Also," she continued, casting an angry glare in his direction, "we have several stranded in our custody. They are to be treated with respect and guarded at all times. It's only a temporary arrangement, so don't worry; we won't have their feral asses stinking up the place for very long." Priscilla finished her speech and dismissed the squad for the night. That time, Gordon was with them. He tried to sleep, but was kept awake for many hours by the mysterious siren's call in his mind reaching for him to remember something in his past, but every time he tried to grasp it, it slid away from him. And so he lay there.

It was early in the morning when something dripped down the ceiling and onto his face, for he was on the top bunk. In the darkness, Gordon gave a start and felt extremely alert, like the wakefulness of a dream. He rubbed the wetted patch on his cheek and tasted it with his tongue. The flavor was salty, familiar and to him delicious; blood!


End file.
